


do the stars gaze back

by cassiniregio



Series: just a handful of stardust [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blood, Death, F/F, Romance, Stardust AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 02:44:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 36,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4162662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiniregio/pseuds/cassiniregio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Lexa is to win the heart of her true love, she must bring back a fallen star. But she’s wholly unprepared for the star to be a beautiful girl named Clarke, or for the host of dangerous people out for star blood. </p><p>In less than a day Clarke falls from the sky, gets run over by a pretty girl, almost gets her heart cut out and maybe gets accidentally kidnapped by pirates, and that’s just the start of her problems. </p><p>It's a stardust AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to dearsheroozle for suggesting this AU and enduring my endless screaming about it. Also many thanks to the lovely dancetyd who beta'd this atrocious mess for me and turned it into something readable. Totally not necessary to have seen the movie (or read the book). 
> 
> Enjoy~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa makes a promise and is generally kind of a gay disaster.

 

> _A philosopher once asked: Are we human because we gaze at the stars? Or do we gaze at them because we are human?_
> 
> _Pointless, really. Do the stars gaze back?_
> 
> _Now that’s a question._

 

Lexa Woods had never given much thought to philosophy. Pondering the thoughts of stars after all, would not win her the heart of her true love. She would have to prove her value, go forth into the world and make her fortune to do that. Something she won’t get working in a shop in her home town.

“Lexa!”

The sharp sound of her name startles her. Mr. Kane is frowning at her, one hand on his hip, the other holding out a broom.

“I’ve been calling your name,” he says, shaking his head.

Lexa takes the broom and begins sweeping the shop floor. “I apologize, Mr. Kane. I was…distracted.”

He goes back to arranging the fruit display. “You mean you were daydreaming about Miss Wentworth.”

Heat floods her cheeks. She wants to protest, but they both know his accusation is true, so she squares her shoulders and focuses on sweeping, moving the broom rather more forcefully than necessary.

Together they open the store and soon it is well into late morning. Lexa gathers orders for the townsfolk who venture in, darting around the store and into the back when they run out of anything. Saturdays are always busy so by early afternoon, Lexa is already exhausted and irritable.

Mrs. Kensington’s usual order is in her wicker basket when the old woman feebly tries to lift it, groaning at the weight. With a sigh (because this is not the first time and she really should have seen this coming), Lexa offers to carry the basket to Mrs. Kensington’s house and the old woman happily accepts.

When she returns to work, she sees several boys hanging around in front. Lexa recognizes them all of course—everyone knows everyone in this town—but specifically, she knows them to be sons of some of the richer families.

In the middle, leaning against the wall, is Elliot Quint, son of the mayor and Lexa’s primary rival all throughout school. He is an arrogant, insufferable boy, who uses his father’s position and wealth to gain anything he wants. Next to him are his younger brother Wesley (equally arrogant and possibly more insufferable) and their friend Ryder West, whose mother owns much of the western half of town.

Lexa despises all three of them.

She tries to slip past without them noticing, but Wesley looks up just as she reaches the door.

“Eh, Woods! Not even gonna say hello?”

Lexa ignores him, tries to step around, but the boy moves to block her path. “Don’t be rude now.” There’s something about the way he smirks that’s unsettling, and she knows instantly that they were waiting for her. “Come and give my brother congratulations.”

He herds Lexa over to where Elliot and Ryder stand. They’re all taller than Lexa by several inches, making her feel crowded. Compared to these boys, in their fine suits and neat haircuts, she feels every inch the poor shop girl. Her coarse clothes are dusty, her face smudged with dirt, and strong as she is, she feels weak in their shadows.

Despite her desire to never speak to any of these boys, Lexa asks, “Congratulations for what?”

“On his future engagement of course!” Wesley crows.

Lexa’s stomach drops at Wesley’s words. There’s only one person Elliot could be proposing to, but she can’t help but clarify, “Engagement to whom?”

Elliot’s smirk is infuriating. “Why, the lovely Miss Costia Wentworth, of course.”

Lexa tightens her jaw and says nothing, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. She wants to smack that smirk right off his face, but she keeps her hands at her sides.

“I have it on very good authority that she’ll say yes.” Elliot examines his nails, seemingly unconcerned, but his eyes flick up to watch her expression.

“You don’t know that,” Lexa bites out.

Ryder and Wesley laugh, but Elliot just continues to smirk at her. “Mr. Wentworth himself gave me his blessing. He approved of my plans to travel to Annapolis in the morning to purchase a ring. I’m sure Costia will be equally impressed with my efforts.”

 Lexa grits her teeth. “You think you can win her over this way? She doesn’t love you.”

“Oh I know so.” Elliot pushes off the wall and steps toward her. “You see Lexa, unlike you, I have something to _offer_ Costia. I can provide for her, give her everything she desires. Money, jewels, everything. You know she’s accustomed to a certain lifestyle. She’ll make the right choice with her _head_ not her heart.” Elliot is right in her face, but Lexa refuses to back down. “You think your little school girl crush will be enough? When will you learn that love is _weakness_. You need more in this world. And _you_ , you’ll always be a little shop girl. You’ll always have nothing.”

The last of Lexa’s resolve snaps.

Her fist slams into Elliot’s nose, sending him tumbling back into a display of apples, spilling them everywhere. Ryder and Wesley are yelling, but it’s all muted in Lexa’s ears. She lunges at Elliot, to push him back down, muss up that clean pressed suit of his, shove the words back into his mouth, but arms catch around her waist and throw her back.

Her back slams into a wooden support post, her breath knocked from her body, but she’s aware enough to duck the fist flying at her face. Ryder’s punch sails past her, and Lexa uses his momentum to push him to the ground.

Before she can recover, Wesley spins her around by the sleeve, right into the path of his fist. It catches her on the cheek and she tastes blood. She stumbles and goes right over the edge of the porch, sprawling in the dirt below.

There’s barely time to even get her bearings before Wesley is there, grappling with her, trying to pin her down. Lexa flails an arm up and smacks him in the face, but it’s not enough to knock him off completely.

“Hey—hey! Break it up!” Mr. Kane shouts, pushing Wesley out of the way so he can reach Lexa.

A small crowd has formed around them by now, angry murmurs passing among them.  Mr. Charleston, the butcher from next door, shoves Wesley toward his brother, who’s holding a handkerchief to his bleeding nose.

“Alright, get out of here, go home,” he says, gruffly.

“Hey, she started it!” Wesley scowls, but walks off with Elliot and Ryder.

Mr. Kane gets Lexa to her feet and swipes at her back to brush the dirt from her clothes. Lexa carefully feels around the inside of her mouth with her tongue, still tasting blood. Her head is spinning and her knuckles throb where she struck Elliot’s face.

The crowd around them disperses now that the fight is over, still muttering unpleasant things. Mr. Kane escorts Lexa into the back room of the store and sits her down on a stool so he can look at her cheek. After a moment he determines all she needs is some ice.

Lexa can feel his disapproval even before he starts talking.

“This is the third fight I’ve had to break up between you and those boys, Lexa.”

“I was provoked,” Lexa says, immediately.

Mr. Kane gives her a stern look. _That’s no excuse._ Lexa knows it’s true, but she still feels the sting of Elliot’s words.

“If you’re incapable of handling your temper, I’m afraid I can’t allow you to work in my store any longer.”

Lexa tries to protest, but Mr. Kane shakes his head. “We can talk about you returning another day, Lexa. But for now, I think you ought to go on home. Keep icing that cheek. Get some rest.”

*

“You lost your job,” her father repeats in a flat tone.

Lexa bows her head. “I’m sorry father.” She’d tried to think of a story to justify her actions, but she’s never been very good at lying.

“I already knew about the fight,” he says, sitting down heavily at the table. “Everyone was talking about it. And then the Mayor paid me a little visit.”

Lexa gulps.

“I persuaded him not to press charges. But if this happens again….” The threat is obvious.

The girl shakes her head and sighs. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on going anywhere near Elliot Quint again. Getting into a fight and losing my job over it sort of puts things into perspective. Maybe Elliot was right. I’m not good enough for Costia. So I should just—”

“Not good enough?” Her father leans forward with a frown. “Did he tell you that?”

“Well he’s going to propose to Costia soon and he seems to think she’ll say yes. What do I have to offer?”

“You have your kind heart, Lexa. Go speak to Costia, tell her how you feel.”

Lexa holds her father’s gaze for a moment and then nods.

*

The streets are quiet and empty a few days later, as Lexa hurries past the big houses and well-manicured yards of Costia’s neighborhood. Lexa heads to the most familiar home and slips through the gate and around the house to find Costia’s window on the second floor. It’s blocked by a curtain, but there’s a faint light glowing behind it, hopefully indicating that its occupant is still awake. She finds a small pebble and pings it against the window.

As she waits, she fidgets, smoothing out her clothing, and running a hand through her loose curls. She’d left it out of the single braid she normally wore as Costia had once said she preferred it down. It falls in her face this way more often then she cares for, but she ignores it for the time being.

A minute or two passes and Lexa considers tossing another pebble, but then the curtain parts and Costia pushes open the window. She doesn’t look happy to see her.

“You shouldn’t be here, Lexa.”

“I know,” Lexa says quickly, raising her hands. “But—I have something for you.”

“An apology, I hope,” Costia sniffs, crossing her arms.

Lexa resists frowning. “Please? Come with me? Just for a little while.”

Costia sighs and steps back into her room, closing her window a sharp snap. Lexa lingers uncertainly for a minute, because Costia didn’t say one way or the other and how long was Lexa prepared to wait?—until Costia slips out the front door, a shawl pulled around her shoulders.

Lexa grins when Costia takes her proffered arm and leans into her as they walk. It’s a short trek to the edge of town and then into the meadow that borders the Wall. Costia is just starting to complain about _how much further?_ when they reach the picnic Lexa has set up.

A soft blanket is spread out on the grass. A basket containing food, a bottle of champagne and two crystal glasses, sits in one corner. There’s a circle of candles and Lexa hurries to light each of them until the air seems to glow around them.

Costia watches from the blanket as Lexa pours them each a glass of champagne and they clink their glasses together before they take their first sip.

“I’ve never had champagne before,” Costia remarks. Her smile is giddy and genuine and Lexa feels her belly swoop.

“Me neither,” Lexa says, taking small sips. She doesn’t particularly like it, but Costia seems to, so Lexa pretends she does as well.

She pulls out two small plates, bread and cheese for each of them. It’s not the plain, cheap stuff she usually eats at home, but the expensive sweet bread and aged cheese from the specialty shop at the end of High Street. There is even some rich dark chocolate for later.

For once she spared no thought to cost, wanting to impress Costia. Or at the very least, not remind the girl of Lexa’s lack of wealth. Unfortunately, the proximity of Lexa to such expensive things has the opposite effect. 

Costia looks around at everything. “This… how did you afford all this, Lexa? This must have been all your savings.”

Lexa shrugs, uncomfortably. “So?” She takes a bite of the sweet bread and tries to savor the richness.

“Lexa, I know shop girls don’t make that much. If this is how you spend it—”

“I’m not a shop girl,” Lexa interrupts, lifting her chin. She hates being called that.

Costia frowns at her. “I heard. My father told me all about the fight.”

“They provoked me,” Lexa says, a little petulantly. “And they fought back.” The fading bruise on her cheekbone is proof enough of that.

“You almost broke Elliot’s nose.”

“He’ll live.”

Costia sighs and shifts one arm behind her to lean on it as she tilts her head to look at the night sky. “Wesley says he’s extended his stay in Annapolis now to give his nose time to heal before he returns with my ring.”

“You say that like you’ve already said yes.”

“Well, I can’t exactly say no, can I? After he’s gone all the way to Annapolis.”

Lexa scoffs. “ _All the way to Annapolis_. That’s barely even two days journey on foot. I’d travel the _world_ for you.”

Costia looks at her, all shy surprise and a pink flush to her cheeks behind her half full glass of champagne. “Really?”

Lexa gets up on her knees, setting her glass aside. “Costia, for your hand in marriage, I’d cross oceans. I’d go to the gold fields of San Francisco and bring you back your weight in gold.” She’s leaning in and so is Costia. “I’d travel to Africa and find a diamond as big as your fist.” They’re so close; Lexa can feel Costia’s breath on her lips. “I’d go to the Arctic and slaughter a polar bear, bring you back its head.”

Costia reels back immediately. “A polar bear’s _head_?” She shakes her head in disgust.

Lexa sighs, sitting back on her heels. She goes back to her champagne, wrinkling her lip just barely at the taste.

Costia giggles a little, reaching up to trail her cool fingers over the bruise on Lexa’s cheekbone.

“You are cute though. Fighting for my honor?”

She’s mocking her, Lexa knows, so she rolls her eyes and looks away.

“It’s just as well, Lexa. People like _me_ and people like _you_ , we don’t—” Costia stops, because she must see the way Lexa’s jaw tightens. “My father would never allow it.”

Lexa winces. This isn’t going the way she’d hoped. “Let’s just… finish the champagne?” She asks, holding up the half empty bottle. Costia sighs and nods, holding her glass up to be refilled.

They fall into silence, both gazing into the star filled sky. Lexa hopes there are no stars gazing back to witness her rejection this night. 

*

Fortunately for Lexa, there aren’t _any_ stars watching them, as all celestial attention is trained to the east, far beyond the Wall. Deep in the realm of Stormhold, an immense castle sits high on a cliff side. Lights spill from the open windows up the spiraling towers, lighting up the night bright as day. Servants inside are in a frenzy, trying to prepare for the arrival of the royal children as they arrive from across the kingdom. There are only five, but each bring with them a host of attendants and unique demands.

In the highest tower, King Thelonius lies on his grand bed, wrapped up in furs and blankets. Chills rack his body no matter how many layers he piles on and he knows he doesn’t have long. This illness is beyond all help, whether natural or magical, but he has resigned himself to this fate. What troubles him now is the fate of his _country_. He has ruled this land for thirty seven years but now the crown must pass to one of his heirs.

But _which_ one? His kingdom didn’t deal with hierarchy nonsense; first borns or superior genders. Instead he wants the most _worthy_ of them all to lead.

One of his attendants announces that two of his children have arrived and with his permission, they’re allowed in. The two that step in are his youngest and the two that get along the least. Wells is the only one of his children to come of Thelonius’ blood and it is this fact that drives the majority of the animosity from John. It hadn’t even been certain that Wells would have the royal spirit—simple blood relation wasn’t always a determinant—and the king had been careful not to play favorites among his children. Still, the two regularly erupted into fights over the simplest of things.

The boys stand at the foot of Thelonius’ bed, at opposite corners, not bothering to hide their distrust for one another.

“Father,” Wells says, clearing his throat. “How are you feeling?”

Before Thelonius can reply, John speaks up. “Better question, why are we here?”

“Have some respect, John,” Wells snaps. “He is your _king_.”

John rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to respond in kind, but Thelonius interrupts with a sharp, “ _Boys._ ”

The king looks sternly between the two of them, daring them to make another comment. “Why I have summoned you here is a matter of great importance that involves the very fate of this country. As such, I must wait until your siblings arrive before I disclose it.” Wells nods solemnly, while John rolls his eyes.

They don’t have to wait long before the other royal children arrive. First is Atom, a strong willed young man with a love of swords and gambling, followed by Anya and Lincoln, close in age but opposites in temperament. They join their young brothers at the foot of the king’s bed.

Thelonius glances at the door with a frown. “Where is your sister, Luna?” The eldest of his children should be here.

Lincoln speaks up, quietly. “I’m sorry Father, no one has seen Luna for years.”

Thelonius sighs. “Very well. My children, I have called you all here together to witness the end of my reign as king.” He holds up his hand to forestall any comments. “My time has come, I have made peace with it, and I must ask you to do the same.” He looks at them all one at a time. “Regardless of the circumstances of your birth, each of you was found to hold the royal spirit and thus became my children. All of you carry the blood of the noble house of Stormhold, and as such, each of you have the potential to rule once I am gone.

“I have waited and watched, to see which of you would be my successor. I thought I would have more time. But if I am to leave this world in peace, I will have to give fate a push, to ensure that the proper successor is chosen.”

The children wait for something momentous to happen and while the older children look merely curious, John and Wells have excitement in their eyes. Thelonius carefully removes the necklace from around his neck, the one he’s worn since he first took the throne, more precious to him than the crown itself. The chain is thick silver, ornate and intricate, and at the center is a large ruby.

He holds the necklace up by the chain so they all can clearly see it, then wraps his hand tightly around the stone. “Only one who holds the royal spirit can restore the ruby.” He lets the stone swing from the chain, now leached of all color, clear as glass. “The one that does will be the next ruler of Stormhold.”

Slowly he releases the chain and the necklace hovers in the air for a moment. The king slumps back against the pillows, closing his eyes. As the last breath leaves his body, the necklace jolts into movement. It rockets straight towards Lincoln’s head before he’s knocked out of the way of John making a desperate grab for the gem. Wells lunges as well, but it shoots beyond their reach and out an open window.

John and Wells jostle each other rushing to the window and the others follow to watch the necklace disappearing into the night. It seems to disappear until there’s an explosion of light high among the stars and the light starts falling, plummeting back to earth. It falls beyond the mountains and out of sight.

“Fate’s making a game of it, I see,” Anya says, her lips curling into a smirk.

*

Back on the other side of the Wall Costia cries out, pointing up. “Look Lexa, a shooting star!” A light streaks across the sky, passes overhead and disappears beyond the woods on the far sie the Wall.

“Beautiful,” Costia murmurs.

Lexa can’t help herself. “More beautiful than a fancy ring from a boy with a crooked nose?”

Costia elbows her lightly but laughs anyway.

Lexa gets up on her knees again. “Costia, for your hand in marriage, I’d cross the Wall and find that fallen star for you.”

“You can’t _cross_ the Wall, Lexa, nobody crosses the Wall. Now you’re just teasing.”

“No, I’d do it,” Lexa says earnestly. “I’d do anything for you.”

Costia considers her, evaluating Lexa’s sincerity. “Alright,” she says finally. “Bring me the star, and I’ll let you ask for my hand.” Lexa’s eyes light up but Costia holds up a finger. “But! You’ll have to make sure to bring it back before Elliot returns, or I marry him.”

Lexa sets her jaw, nodding firmly. “Deal.”

*

After she sees Costia safely back home, she heads straight for the gap in the Wall. She still has a bit of the food left in her satchel, as well as some money. It’s perhaps foolish to leave in the middle of the night, but she knows her father won’t approve, and the day guards are much more formidable then the night guards.

The Wall stretches into the distance in either direction uniform and unremarkable except for the gap, a space wide enough for several people to walk through abreast. For as long as Lexa can remember, she’s understood that the Wall is a boundary, and the gap the only doorway. If Lexa is to cross the Wall, here is where she must do it.

As she approaches, two boys jump to their feet, on either side of the gap. Lexa knows both of them from school, though they were a couple years behind her. Jasper Jordan and Monty Green are both short and too skinny, parentless and thus wards of the guardsmen. At sixteen they took their places as guards at the Wall.

The boys converge on the gap, crossing their arms, trying to look intimidating. They look nervous, but excited to be handling their first incident on duty.

“Why if it isn’t Lexa Woods,” Jasper drawls, tilting his head. “What brings you out this fine evening?”

Lexa supposes there’s no use in hiding her purpose there. “I need to cross the Wall.”

Monty raises his eyebrow. “Nobody crosses the Wall, you know that. Everybody knows that.”

“I don’t suppose there’s any way you two could just let me pass, and we’d keep it our little secret?”

Jasper gasps and he puffs himself up with outrage. “We’re charged with guarding the portal to another world, and you’re asking us to just _let you through_?”

Lexa rolls her eyes. “Yes. Because, let’s be honest. It’s just a field.” She steps forward and drapes her arms around the boys so they turn and look through the gap with her. “Look, do you _see_ another world? No, you see a field. Do you see anything… _non-human_? No. And do you know why? Because it’s a field!”

The boys jerk away from her, hurrying to resume their human blockade.

“Hundreds of years, this Wall has been here,” Jasper starts, speaking as if reciting from a script. “Hundreds of years it’s been under twenty-four hour guard.”

“Well—”

“No,” Jasper puffs his chest out. “One more word and we’ll—we’ll bring you up before the Council!” Monty nods vigorously, backing up his friend.

Lexa narrows her eyes. “Well, that sounds rather final. I suppose I will just head home then.” She backs up a couple steps before turning around. She hears the boys release their breath in relief, shuffling in the grass back to their spots by the wall.

She waits a beat longer, before spinning around and making a break for the gap. The boys leap to intercept her and she hears Monty yelling ‘ _Stop! Stop!’_ , but Lexa is already leaping over the stones of the gap.

For a split second, she thinks she’s done it, she’s crossed the Wall, but then she triggers the snare trap lurking on the other side. Something slams into her stomach and then she’s tossed bodily back through the gap. She lands on her upper back so hard her momentum flips her over onto her front and it’s a long moment before she can lift her head from the dirt. Monty and Jasper stand above her, arms crossed, dual smirks on their faces.

Monty nudges her with his toe. “Well, off you go.”

Lexa drops her face back down with a groan.  

*

She sneaks back into her home, trying not to wake her father. She sets her bag down by the kitchen table and slowly starts to work her jacket off her shoulders. As her sore ribs and back protest the movement, a voice startles her.

“Lexa? What’s wrong?” Her father is at the foot of the stairs, staring at her with concern.

“I’m fine,” she says, trying and failing to stand up straight without wincing.

Her father clucks his tongue. “Fighting again, Lexa?”

The comment makes her frown. “ _No_. Actually, it was the night guards at the Wall. They rigged up some sort of snare trap, to catch anyone passing through the gap. Rather violently, I might add. It should be illegal to build something as dangerous as that.” She pulls a chair out from the table and sits down.

“It’s illegal to cross through the gap at all,” her father reminds her, joining her at the table. “May I ask why you were trying?”

Lexa avoids his eyes, feeling sheepish. Eventually though, her father’s stern look cracks her silence. She explains about her night with Costia and the shooting star. “I thought that if I could bring it back for real, I would have something to prove my worth to her. Something Elliot wouldn’t ever be able to give her.”

“Sweetheart,” her father chides softly. “Haven’t I told you that gifts are not the way to win someone’s heart?”

“What else am I to do?” Lexa says, hopelessly. “Elliot is going to propose to her and she’s going to say yes. I don’t know what else there is for me out there.”

“Lexa, I’ve done my best to raise you by myself. I’d hoped that this life would be enough for you.” Her father sighs, considering his daughter for a long moment. “But perhaps, it’s time. Come with me.”

Her father stands and leads her upstairs and then up into the attic space. It’s a small, cramped little room, filled with trunks, boxes and a heavy layer of dust. Both of them are too tall for the space, forced to hunch over until they’re both seated, Lexa on the floor and her father on the edge of a dark blue trunk.

After rummaging around, he pulls out a small box and holds it in his lap unopened. “I was just about your age when I crossed over the Wall,” her father starts.

“ _You_ went over the wall?” Lexa exclaims. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Youthful rebellion? A lust for adventure? It was dangerous and exciting, and my parents told me not to, so I did it.”

“What’s over there?”

“Another world. A fey world of dark magic and wondrous dreams. I went through the forest and I stumbled into the middle of a night market. Shops, tents and booths set up everywhere. They held the most extraordinary and terrifying things, that which I can hardly distinguish from dreams now. And at one of these tents, I met your mother.”

“What did she look like?”

Her father smiles, dreamily. “Beautiful. The most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Eyes the color of the forest and a smile the enthralled the senses. Her name was Luna, like the great full moon that hung in the sky above us. I was captivated. We talked for a long time and eventually she offered a glass flower from her stall. I had no money, but she wanted only a kiss in exchange.

“We spent the night together. But in the early dawn I found my way back to the Wall and by the next day everything that had happened felt like dream. It wasn’t until nine months later that a basket was left at the Wall, holding an infant child and a letter addressed to me.”

Lexa raised her eyebrows. “And that child was me?”

Her father nods. “Yes,” then after a beat, “Your mother named you.”

“But… but why did she leave me at the Wall? Why didn’t she want me?” Lexa couldn’t help but feel a pang of hurt.

“The night that I met her, she told me she was a princess. That she’d been tricked into being a witch’s slave. There was a chain locked around her ankle that kept her bound. I tried to cut the chain, but it was enchanted. Only the witch’s death could free her. I imagine that’s not the life she would choose for her child.”

Her father opens the small box in his lap. First he draws out a fine silver chain, about a foot in length, then a small, pure white, glass flower. He hands both to Lexa, who takes them and cradles them in her palms.

“She told me the flower would bring me luck. I know she would want you to have it.”

Lexa turns the glass flower and the silver chain over in her fingers.

“I have a mother,” she says, almost to herself. “I have a _mother_.” All these years, she’d given up any thought of one; so much so that she’d almost convinced herself there had never _been_ one at all. Yet now she had physical evidence in her hands.

Her father pulls out the last item from the box, a thick, sealed envelope. “This was in the basket with you. I never opened it, as it’s addressed to you.”

Lexa carefully stows the glass flower in her breast pocket, the silver chain in another, and takes the letter. The envelope is thick and wrinkled from whatever is inside. She slits the seal with her nail and pulls out a slip of similar heavy parchment, barely catching the long black candle that falls out of it.

The letter is short, written in beautifully flowing script.

 

> _My dearest Lexa,_
> 
> _Please know that I only ever wanted the best for you. Had my mistress allowed it, I would have kept you in a heartbeat. My dearest wish is that we may meet again one day. The fastest way to travel is by candlelight. To use it, think of me, and only me. I will think of you every day, for always._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Your mother_

Lexa runs her eyes back over the letter. Her mother’s script is far more graceful than Lexa has ever been able to achieve in school. She wonders if the woman behind the pen is as equally beautiful. If her father is to be believed, she is. Or had been eighteen years ago.

“She could still be alive,” Lexa says, looking up at her father.

“I hope so,” he smiles. “I certainly like to think so.”

Lexa looks back down at the letter, reading it again. So she hadn’t been heartlessly abandoned as a baby after all, but the loss sits no less heavy in her chest.

_The fastest way to travel is by candlelight._

What did that mean? She considers the black candle in her hand. Clearly it had been included for a purpose. She turns to her father. He looks quietly hopeful that this letter and his story has been enough to make up for a lifetime of lying to her.

The corner of her mouth lifts into a half smile. "Well, do you have a light?"

Her father nods and rummages among his pockets until he finds a book of matches. Lexa holds the candle in both hands as her father strikes the match and holds the flame to the wick. As it catches, Lexa closes her eyes and thinks _mother_.

There’s a blinding flash and she is moving faster than she could have ever thought possible. She feels her body flow and extend through space, the warm wax of the candle her only tether to reality. The flame flickers violently and briefly she thinks of a shooting star streaking through the night.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come find me on tumblr and remind me to draw art for this


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke gets knocked down by a pretty girl and things get complicated.

 

The smell of burning wood registers first. Followed by the jarring realization that she can _smell_ at all. Clarke's eyes snap open. A vast starry sky stretches out above her, which normally wouldn't be cause for alarm if only the stars weren't so very _far_.

She sits up slowly, recalibrating her senses.

She is—human? She’s human.

She is a star contained, but she is _human_ and she is on Earth.

But—how?

Clarke tries to make sense of the overwhelming rush of new sensations. Wind whispering through her hair, the pull of air filling and deflating her lungs, the warmth of blood pumping beneath her skin. She presses a hand to her chest and revels at the heartbeat inside.

“Ow,” she hisses as she tries to move, a sharp pain radiating up her leg. “Fuck.” Pain. A decidedly unsavory human experience. Spectacular. Not only has she managed to fall all the way to Earth, but she just had to sprain her ankle when she landed.

She lies at the center of a wide crater, open at one end, sloping up into the smoldering remains of a forest. The area around her still smells of burning.  Clarke looks around and notices something glittering in the moonlight. When she realizes what it is, she lunges for it.

 _This_ is why she’s here.

This gaudy necklace with its intricately woven silver chain and heavy stone center piece knocked her from her heavenly perch. The stone is totally transparent and Clarke wonders if it’s actually glass—she doesn't know enough about earth minerals to be certain. Regardless, she figures she ought to keep it with her. With no pockets in the silvery dress she wears, she fastens the necklace around her neck.

Clarke manages to stagger to her feet after only a few seconds of huffing and wincing. Now what should she do? Find the nearest village and ask for help? She tries to decide which direction is best when the only direction she really wants to go, is _up_.

She turns as something catches her eye, just in time to see a light streaking towards her.

There isn't time even to think about moving before something heavy and _solid_ slams into her. For the second time, Clarke hits the earth. Stars dance behind her eyelids and another time she might laugh at the irony.

When she opens her eyes, all she can see (and smell and taste, if she’s being honest) is a mess of chestnut curls. There’s breath on her neck and hands that aren’t hers in very awkward places. A human girl, as far as Clarke can tell, though she’s never been _quite_ this close to one before.

Clarke wants to protest, push her off, but then the girl lifts her head so Clarke can see her face. Wide, pale green eyes stare down at her, less than a hand’s breath away. Framed by a smooth youthful face, high cheekbones, and curtains of soft hair, the girl’s gaze entrances Clarke, all her words forgotten.

But then the girl opens her mouth and what comes out is, "Mother?" And the spell is broken.

Her voice is high, almost incredulous and at the word she seems to realize that she’s still lying on top of Clarke. She scrambles back. "Oh, I am so sorry, mother!"

"I’m not your mother," Clarke frowns. Her upper body now free, she pushes herself onto her elbows, groaning at the pull in her sore back.

The girl stops, knees still bracketing Clarke's thighs. "You're not my mother?"

"Do I _look_ like I'm your mother?"

The girl stares for a second, apparently taking a moment to decide. Clarke raises an eyebrow, because although she actually doesn't _know_ what she looks like in this form, she knows she doesn't look like anyone’s mother, thank you very much.

“No, sorry.” She shakes her head a little and stands.

Clarke struggles to sit upright.

"Do you need some help?"

"You can help by leaving me alone!" Clarke snaps. Really the question had been polite enough and probably didn't require such hostility, but that collision had _hurt_. Now in addition to a throbbing ankle, her whole body aches and she is even filthier.  

The girl’s jaw tightens, and she says nothing more as she wanders away to survey their surroundings. Clarke watches, wondering if she should apologize and take the offer of help after all. Despite her rude arrival, this stranger is the only person around and Clarke has no idea where to go from here.

Abruptly the girl turns, straight backed and tense, staring at something in her hand. "Light the candle and think of me... I was, I was thinking of my mother… I—oh. Oh no, the _star_. At the last second that shooting star popped into my head and I—" The girl looks around with new purpose, taking in the reality of the crater, and her eyes fall on Clarke. She rushes back over and drops down beside Clarke, looking a bit breathless. "Excuse me, I apologize for bothering you again, but—ah, have you seen a fallen star anywhere?"

"You’re funny."

"I'm serious, this is a crater, this must be where it fell."

Clarke stares hard, wondering if perhaps the girl is slow. With how her night has gone, she has little patience left, so Clarke opts for mockery. "Yes. Yes, this is where it fell.” She takes a savage kind of delight in the way those green eyes light up with excitement.

“Oh!” She continues after a beat, leaning closer. “If you want to get _really_ specific. Up _there_ ," Clarke gestures vaguely at the stars, "is where this weird fucking necklace came out of nowhere and knocked it _right_ out of the sky while it was minding its own damn business. And over _there_ ," she gestures at the ground, "is where it landed. And right _here,"_ she carefully points directly where she's sitting; "here’s where it got hit by a MAGICAL. FLYING. _MORON_."

There’s a long silence where the girl just narrows her eyes and stares at Clarke. Her enthusiasm disappeared somewhere during Clarke's speech and now her face is a stony mask. "You are the star?"

Clarke rolls her eyes. "Look at that, I think she's got it."

"You're the star," she repeats, a little stunned now. Her eyes roam over Clarke, as if seeing her for the first time. "I had no idea that a fallen star could be a...a—"

"Be a what?"

"A beautiful woman."

Her years of watching the earth could not have prepared her for this. This girl is the first human she has seen up close yet Clarke can't match the intensity of her gaze. Clarke's face flushes, but the girl doesn't seem to be having the same problem as she stares at Clarke with a sharp focus.

"I'm Lexa," she says, holding her hand out. Clarke is puzzled before she remembers the human gesture, and slowly puts her hand into Lexa’s. Her skin is rougher than Clarke's, but her hand is warm and gentle and maybe Clarke regrets her harsh words.

"And I do apologize for this," Lexa continues. Before Clarke can ask what she means, Lexa jerks Clarke forward and wraps something cold around her wrist. Her hand is released and Clarke finds a thin chain is locked tight around her arm, the end trailing up to Lexa's closed fist.

"What are you doing?" Clarke sputters, jerking back.

Lexa leans back on her heels, keeping a tight hold of the end of the chain. Her voice is cold. "I apologize madam, but I need you to come with me.”

"And why would I do that?"

"Well, you are going to be a gift for Costia, my true love. She told me if I could bring her back a fallen star, I could ask for her hand in marriage."

It’s said in such a self-righteous way that Clarke can’t help but mock her. "Oh sure because nothing says _romance_ like the gift of a kidnapped, injured woman."

Lexa’s cool façade falters. "I admit, this is not what I imagined, but nevertheless, as I hold the magic chain, I believe that means you have to do as I command."

Clarke scoffs. "Right. I'm not going anywhere with you, _commander_."

Lexa stands and pulls hard on the chain tugging Clarke's arm up to its limit. Clarke tightens her hand into a fist, resisting the pull and after a few moments Lexa lets the chain fall slack. Clarke whips her bound wrist back hard, almost pulling the chain right out of Lexa’s grasp. Lexa growls and they engage in a childish tug-o-war for several minutes before Lexa huffs out her frustration and sits back down.

Her jaw works furiously as she glares hard. Clarke’s sure grown men would cower under such a look, but all she feels is a challenge and glares right back.

When she’s sustained her best ‘fuck off’ glare long enough, Clarke directs her attention to the chain. It’s amazingly strong, for being so thin, and there seems to be no connection point, even where it meets the trailing end Lexa holds. The metal simply melds together. Clarke tests it with her free hand and with her teeth, then tries to wiggle her hand out of it. No luck.

"It’s a magic chain."

Clarke ignores her.

"Look," Lexa sighs. "I don’t want to force you to come with me.”

“Well, good thing I’m not going with you then.”

“You know, I was planning on returning you to the sky, once Costia saw you, but—"

Frowning, Clarke looks up. "And just how were you planning on getting me back into the sky?"

Lexa shrugs her shoulders, looking supremely unconcerned. "I find that the fastest way to travel is by candlelight."

Clarke starts to roll her eyes but then she spots what’s in Lexa's hand. "Is that a Babylon candle?" A Babylon candle could send the holder anywhere they wanted to go, but they were rare. She immediately regrets her eager tone when Lexa smirks.

“It is, yes."

"How did you get it?"

"I didn't steal it, if that’s what you're wondering.”

Clarke stalls, staring at the lump of candle wax. "It looks like it barely has one use left..."

"So? My mother gave this to me. I was supposed to use it to find her and now I'm graciously offering it to you. But I suppose I could just leave you here and use it to be on my way...." Lexa examines the candle in the moonlight in an obvious display of temptation.

She hates that it works. "Fine! I'll go. Help me up, will you?"

*

Despite having walked nearly all morning, sometimes over quite rough terrain, Lexa is in high spirits. The land they travel through is gorgeous, more so now the sun has risen to highlight colors in the landscape. Everything seems more vibrant on this side of the Wall. Lexa wonders if that’s just her own perception or if this side really is permeated with magic.

She’s pulled her hair back into its usual single braid and taken off her jacket to appreciate a late morning breeze. The woods around them breathe with life and Lexa feels at home. More at home than she’s ever felt in the quiet little house she shares with her father.

Perhaps once they’re married she can convince Costia to move to this side of the Wall. They can bring her father and finally track down her mother. She feels a strange connection to this place as if she could have a _life_ here, instead of just surviving day to day.

“Tell me again how you know where we’re going?” The star says, trailing several paces behind. It’s not exactly a question as it's said in the dry, patronizing tone Lexa is becoming familiar with. It’s also one that the star has asked approximately seven times so far.

Lexa shrugs. “As I’ve told you, I can’t explain it. I just have a feeling.”

“Oh, a _feeling_.” All day, the star’s go-to retort has been to imitate Lexa's statements in a sullen voice.

“Yes, a feeling. Maybe it is my love for Costia guiding me home.” She thinks maybe the star snorts but Lexa ignores it. “Will you stop doubting me? I know we’re going the right way.”

The star grumbles something under her breath that sounds vaguely like ‘yes _commander.’_ Lexa can’t bring herself to be annoyed. The day is too beautiful, the hope in her too strong, to feel anything but contentment.

There’s another tug on the chain in Lexa’s grasp and she absentmindedly tugs back.

“Fuck, OW,” the star yelps, stopping to angrily pull back on the chain. “Will you _please_ slow down?”

Lexa turns. “I’m walking at a normal pace, madam. You’re the one walking too slow.”

“I’m _injured_ remember? I fell all the way down to earth and then some moron ran me over. I’m not exactly dressed for a cross country hike, either. ”

Lexa eyes the long silvery dress, heavy stone necklace, and glittery heels. No, definitely not dressed for the woods.

The star runs a hand over her forehead, tiredly. “And the name is _Clarke_ , by the way. Not that you’ve bothered to ask.”

Lexa blinks. She realizes now that she _hasn’t_ bothered to ask for the star’s name because, well, she didn’t think stars _had_ names. Before last night she didn’t even know stars could fall to earth. Or that they would become beautiful young women with golden hair, sharp eyes and even sharper tongues.

Then she registers the name. “Clarke? Bit of an odd name for a star.”

The star sighs. “It’s not my _actual_ name—you wouldn’t understand that one—nor is it what you humans call me in the sky. But after so many years watching Earth, I chose this name for myself, thank you very much.”

Lexa’s growing smile drops into a frown as Clarke limps away from the path.

“What are you doing?”

Clarke pants a little as she eases herself down at the base of a large oak tree. “What does it look like? I’m sitting down, I’m tired.”

“And why are you doing that? We’re not stopping till we reach the next village.”

“Because I’m exhausted!” Clarke snaps, and she really does look it, eyelids falling, face drawn and pale. “It is _midday_. I never stay up this late. It may have escaped your notice, _genius_ , but stars usually have rather better things to do at night than sleep. Like coming out, shining, that sort of thing?”

“Mockery is not the product of a strong mind, _Clarke_ ,” Lexa says, crossing her arms.

“Just _please_ let me sleep,” the star pleads. She drops her head back against the trunk and honestly she looks so pathetic that Lexa caves instantly.

“Alright. You stay here and sleep. I’ll continue on to the next town and bring us back something to eat.” She pauses a moment. “You do eat food, right?”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “Yes, Lexa, I eat food.”

Lexa stares at her for another moment, wondering if Clarke is still mocking her, but she’s shifting around to find a comfortable spot, paying no mind, so Lexa assumes not. Now there’s just the problem of the chain. There’s no guarantee that the star won’t immediately escape once Lexa leaves. As she speculates, Lexa pulls on the chain in her hand, watching it magically lengthen, and she gets an idea.

She’s halfway around the trunk of the tree, stringing the chain along before Clarke opens her eyes.

“What are you doing?”

Lexa returns to the front again, and touches the chain to itself so that a new seamless bond is formed, completing the loop around the tree. “What does it look like? I’m making sure you won’t run away.”

Clarke frowns up at the chain. “Are you going to be able to unlock that when you get back?”

Lexa doesn’t know for certain if she can, but it seems unwise to tell Clarke that. “Of course,” she says. “I’ll be back before dark.”

“Please, take your time,” Clarke replies, already curling up and shutting her eyes.

*

It’s after dark when Lexa returns.

The town was farther than she’d anticipated, and it had taken time to locate a shop-keeper who would accept labor in exchange for food. The old man running Miller & Sons General Store had been very kind and gracious, then proceeded to take full advantage of Lexa’s offer of hard labor. There was wood to be chopped, a shipment of heavy glass bottles to be carried from the basement and a whole storeroom floor to sweep. If she hadn't worked for years in a store just like it Lexa would have collapsed halfway through. As it is, her back will be aching for days.

It was worth the bag of supplies she now holds though. The walk back is tiring after her long day, but as she gets closer, Lexa lets herself feel excited to see the star—Clarke—again. Somehow, she’d grown used to the sarcastic commentary—missed it even.

She looks for a sign of Clarke’s silvery dress or blonde hair, but when she reaches the tree, Clarke is gone. A quick search yields nothing except the broken remains of the silver chain. It’s only about a foot long now, the original length her father had cut years ago and when Lexa tries to connect the ends, nothing happens. The magic is completely gone.

Nearby in the dirt, are some faint hoof marks. No footprints other than Lexa’s own and some heel marks probably from Clarke. How had she broken free? Had someone helped her? Lexa had thought only she could break the chain.

She slumps down against the tree, frustrated. Now what was she to do? She has nothing to bring Costia, nothing to show for her journey at all. The allure of eating a big meal after her hard day of work is gone. She had been waiting to eat with Clarke, but even food has lost its appeal.

She curls up on the ground. Might as well try and get some rest.

Lexa dreams.

There’s another star falling to earth, just like Clarke, except this one has black hair and sparkling brown eyes. A kind looking old man takes her in. He embraces her like a daughter, gifting her with lovely jewelry and dresses. The star glows with white light when she smiles.

Then one day, when the star’s glow is brightest, he leads her into a back room. Lexa’s dream becomes a nightmare as he straps her to a table, ignoring her cries, and drains her blood. When the star is almost dead, he cuts out her still beating heart and devours it.

The gruesome image fades into a dark forest where moonlight illuminates Clarke in her silvery dress, on the back of a pure white unicorn. They approach a quaint little inn and the unicorn kneels so Clarke can slip from its back. She approaches the inn door and knocks. After a moment the door opens and warm light spills out around the figure of an old man. He’s all kind smiles and welcoming gestures as he ushers Clarke inside the inn, but Lexa immediately recognizes the man who lusts after star blood and immortal hearts. A man who now has his murderous sights set on Clarke.

Lexa wakes with a gasp, the terror surging through her still vivid as her dream. She knows, without a doubt, that it was more than a dream; it was a warning. She must find Clarke at all costs.

The sound of a carriage in the distance gets her moving. It’s still dark so she has no idea how long she has been asleep. She grabs her pack without a second thought and takes off running. The carriage is ornate, drawn by four black stallions and moving fast, but she thinks she can intercept it.

A man rides in front, flicking the reins to urge them faster. The sound of their thundering hoofs is deafening.

Lexa sprints for the carriage, converging on it at a right angle and she jumps. Her foot lands on the first step just fine, but her other foot catches on the lip of the platform and she pitches forward into the railing, hard. Her feet slip, but she manages to grab the railing before she’s thrown off.

The man directing the carriage shouts in alarm, jerking the horses to stop. The jarring of the carriage threatens to dislodge Lexa, but he reaches over and seizes a fistful of her jacket.

“What the hell were you thinking?” The man yells. “You could have been killed!”

Lexa groans, clutching her arm to her chest. She doesn’t think it’s broken, but her arm throbs where it struck the railing.

“I just needed a lift,” Lexa mumbles, sitting on the bench seat properly.

The man stares at her, shaking his head. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. I’m on a quest of enormous importance. I can’t let anything stand in the way of my destiny.”

“Look, we’re going the same direction. Maybe _destiny_ sent me to you, just as it sent you to me.”

The man considers this, sizing her up. “Very well, I’ll allow you to travel with me for now. What is your name?”

“Lexa.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Lexa, my name is Prince Wells.”

*

Clarke nearly groans in pleasure as she sinks into the bath, warm water feeling incredible on her aching muscles. With the pleasant light of a fireplace she’s almost relaxed enough to fall asleep, right there in the bathtub.

The ground hadn’t been particularly comfortable, but she had been exhausted enough to sleep till late into the afternoon without waking. As night began to fall and stars appeared, Clarke had let her own light shine. It was partly habit, but also homesickness. The sky felt terribly far away. She didn’t know if her sisters could even see her light, all the way down on the ground.

Lexa had promised to be back before nightfall, but it was well into evening before anything approached. The pure white unicorn had appeared out of the forest like a dream, drifting towards her and knocking the magic chain loose with its spiraling horn. The chain’s connections had dissolved instantly at the touch.

Clarke trusts the unicorn would take her somewhere safe. The inn they’d found seems quiet and welcoming, and the old inn keeper had offered Clarke a room for the night, waving away any mention of payment.

The bath he’d insisted on had been a good idea too and Clarke thinks she could get used this sort of luxury on earth. The warm water makes her think conversely of cool night air and she wonders if Lexa is on her way back to the tree yet, if she’s already arrived to find Clarke missing. Would she look for Clarke? Would she spend the night all alone in the forest?

She doesn’t know much about the girl, other than the fact that she’d mowed Clarke down, chained her up and dragged her across the countryside to meet some sweetheart. Not a particularly good first impression, but in all honesty, Clarke didn’t hate her. She might even like her a tiny bit. Lexa had taken all Clarke’s attitude that morning with stoic grace even smiling a few times. And she wasn’t terrible to look at either.

Clarke shakes her head to clear her thoughts. It is unlikely she will ever see Lexa again, so she shouldn’t worry about her any more.

When Clarke gets out of the bath, once the water had begun to grow cold, she finds her dress is gone. The only thing she still has is the heavy stone necklace around her neck. She puts on a fluffy white robe and seeks out the little serving girl that had helped with her bath earlier.

“Charlotte, do you know where my clothes are?”

The girl looks at her with wide eyes. “Oh, we’ve put them into the wash for you, miss. They should be clean and dry soon.”

Clarke sighs and heads downstairs in her bathrobe, looking for something to eat. The innkeeper is in the kitchen, already preparing a plate of food for her.

“Ah, Clarke, I was just about to send this upstairs. Are you hungry?” The man looks just as Clarke imagines a grandfather to look. He is tall with short white hair, a pale wrinkled face, and gentle eyes.

Clarke smiles politely and accepts the plate. “Thank you, Mr. Wallace. For your hospitality.”

The man’s dark blue eyes crinkle as he smiles. “Don’t mention it, my dear! I would never turn away a young woman traveling alone at night. If it was my child, I would want someone to do the same.”

Clarke sits at a table in the dining room and eats, savoring the taste. It’s the first real food she’s had since she fell to Earth, aside from those berries Lexa found alongside the road. Lexa had been surprisingly knowledgeable of edible plants, but they hadn’t found much.

While she eats, Clarke looks around, taking in the room. It has a quaint homey feel, all hewn wooden planks and handcrafted furniture. Numerous paintings cover the walls and Clarke finds herself staring at one in particular. It shows a meadow at night, a giant moon above, casting blue light over the scene. Stars glitter through the painted sky and Clarke feels another pang of homesickness.

“You like the paintings?” Mr. Wallace says, interrupting her thoughts.

“Yes, they’re beautiful. I’ve always been fascinated by hu—by art.” Clarke says, catching herself on the word. “Though I’ve not had the chance to try it, unfortunately.”

“Painting is something of a hobby of mine. I actually painted all these myself. I find it to be quite relaxing; always helps me sleep better at night.”

“I do have trouble sleeping at night,” she says, offhand.

“Well, if you like, I could have supplies sent up to your room for you?”

The offer is tempting. Human art is one of her favorite things about Earth. Mr. Wallace stands across the table from her, hands clasped behind his back, with a hopeful look in his eye.

“Alright, if it’s not too much trouble?”

Mr. Wallace breaks out into a wide smile, clapping his hands together. “Not at all, my dear, not at all! Every young artist should get the chance to create.” He hurries away to gather the needed supplies while Clarke takes her time finishing her meal. When she’s done, Charlotte appears by her side and takes the empty plate before Clarke can say anything.

When she returns to her room, there is an easel set up with a low stool and small table holding drawing and painting utensils beside it. Clarke sits down on the stool and looks through the various materials that have been brought for her.

Just as she chooses a medium a voice startles her enough to make her drop the black pencil back onto the table.

“Use anything you like, Clarke, and do let me know if you need anything else!” Mr. Wallace brings in a large book of paper, bound together at the top by a thick cord. He sets it on the easel and flips the cover sheet over to the first page.

“Thank you, Mr. Wallace,” Clarke says, picking up the charcoal pencil again. She can feel herself starting to glow; she’s too excited by the prospect of drawing to suppress it.

Mr. Wallace’s eyes linger on the golden glow of her hair.  “I will leave you to it then, my dear.”

Clarke turns to the easel, pencil hovering over the blank page in thought. For a second, she doesn’t know _what_ to draw, but then she starts sketching and finds herself drawing the Earth—the view she experienced every night, for centuries. Beside the Earth she starts sketching the things she had longed to see up close, to experience for herself.

After a while, she starts adding color to her drawing, mixing in blues and greens. She feels content, her starlight glowing unchecked. The page begins to fill up and she sits back to admire her work. It’s nowhere near perfect, but the simple act of creation has made her feel happy for the first time since she fell to Earth.

A loud banging downstairs startles her and she swivels on her stool to find Mr. Wallace looming behind her, one arm twisted behind his back.

“Holy sh—!” Clarke says, nearly falling off her stool.

His eyes are wide and he seems to be holding his breath. “Oh I, I didn’t mean to startle you, Clarke. I just came to see how you were getting along.”

Clarke clutches at her chest, feeling her heart race beneath the skin. There’s more banging downstairs and then the sound of a door opening followed by faint voices.

“Oh I think… there must be another guest. I must attend to them,” Mr. Wallace says, awkwardly. Clarke just stares at him as he backs slowly from the room, not removing his arm from behind his back.

How long had he been watching her? And what in the world had he been hiding behind his back?

The voices downstairs taper off and the front door to the inn opens then closes again. There are footsteps around the first floor, muffled by the distance. Clarke turns back to her drawing, but her hands are shaking too much to continue. She stands up and decides to go looking for her clothes. Surely they must be done by now.

Charlotte is nowhere to be found on the second floor, so Clarke heads for the stairs. When she reaches the landing, she hears voices again. A young man is standing by the fireplace water dripping from his fine expensive clothes. Charlotte coaxes him out of the jacket and outer clothes then disappears through a door into the kitchens just as Clarke enters the room.

The man looks up. “Ah, hello, I apologize; I hope my arrival didn’t wake you at this late hour, madam.” He is well spoken and holds a regal posture even as he sits in his soaking undershirt and pants.

“Oh, no no.” Clarke assures, awkwardly crossing her arms.

“I hadn’t planned to stop this evening, but the inclement weather drove us to find shelter.” His gaze is more curious than salacious as he looks her up and down but Clarke still feels uncomfortable, aware that she’s still only wearing a bathrobe. “Perhaps my young traveling companion was right to think destiny has guided me here, to meet such a lovely young lady.”

Clarke doesn’t know what to say, and the man plows through the awkward silence, puffing his chest up somewhat proudly. “I am Prince Wells, son of King Thelonius of Stormhold. Currently, I am on a quest of enormous importance that concerns the fate of this entire country.”

“Oh,” Clarke says, uncertainly, “uh, how nice for you. Um, I should really—”

The prince continues as if she hasn’t said anything. “My traveling companion is currently putting my carriage and four stallions in the stable. It’s really quite a roomy carriage. Are you traveling alone? Perhaps I can persuade you to join us.”

Clarke winces behind what she hopes is a polite smile. She _is_ traveling alone and she doesn’t really have any idea where to go from here, so she has every reason to accept his offer. But another part of her, still jumpy from the shock of finding Mr. Wallace so close behind her, is wary of trusting another stranger.

Prince Wells leans forward in his chair scrutinizing Clarke closely. “Where did you get that necklace?”

Clarke reaches for the heavy stone. “I— I don’t—”

Just then, Charlotte comes back carrying a platter with a bottle of wine and a single glass. She sets it on the table and pours out a glass for the prince.

“Oh, no wine for me thanks,” he says distracted, still staring at the necklace. “I have vowed to drink no wine but my own until my quest is complete.”

Charlotte looks uncertainly from Wells to the kitchen door and back again. Clarke just wants to ask about her clothing, but the front door bursts open, a torrent of rain splashing in followed by a frantic Lexa.

“Prince Wells! Don’t trust anything they give you, they tried to poison me—” She careens around the corner and slides to a stop, her eyes wide. “Prince Wells!”

But her warning is too late as Charlotte pulls her hand back from the prince’s neck, the small dagger in her hand dripping dark blue blood. The prince clutches his neck, trying to stem the flow, but it’s futile and after a few moments his body goes slack. Charlotte stares at the blade horrified by what she’s just done.

“Charlotte—” Clarke starts, but the sound sends the child running back into the kitchen.

“Clarke!” Lexa runs over, nearly embracing Clarke, but she catches herself at the last moment. She is soaked from head to toe, and her eyes are wild. “I’ve been looking for you! That man—the innkeeper, he wants to kill you. I had this dream—a vision. He wants your blood; he wants to eat your _heart!_ We have to get you out of here!”

Clarke tries to make sense of the rushed words, on top of everything that has happened. “What? Lexa slow down, what are you talking about?”

But Lexa is shaking her head. “There’s no time, we have to go right now! Do you want to end up like the prince?” She gestures wildly at the body slumped by the fireplace.

“Ok,” Clarke says, paling. She remembers Mr. Wallace standing inches behind her, his arm twisted behind his back. “Ok, let’s go.”

Together they run for the front door, but a wall of toxic yellow smoke rises in front of them, blocking their exit. Lexa whips her hand back when the smoke burns on contact with her skin. The wall behind it begins to buckle, dissolving under the acidity of the smoke.

“Not so fast, Clarke. We have unfinished business.” The old innkeeper steps out of the shadows, twirling a glass knife in his hands. As he steps forward, his years seem to slip away, the wrinkles on his face smoothing as his white thinning hair fills out to become a dark youthful brown. He loses some height and his torso becomes broader, his clothes shifting to accommodate him.

“Who are you?” Clarke gasps.

“Oh, you don’t recognize me?” He smirks. “My name is Cage. I like to wear my father’s face, to put you stars more at ease. And it worked for a little while, didn’t it? You were shining so bright, I could see that heart glowing so clearly in your chest I almost ripped it out with my bare hands.”

As he talks, he steps closer, still absently twirling the knife in his hands as the girls edge away from him. “I just about had my prize too, when these little intruders showed up.” He uses the glass knife to gesture between Prince Wells’ prone body and Lexa. “The golden heart of a star at peace is so much sweeter, but alas, now I must make do with your frightened one. We must all make sacrifices.”

Lexa pushes Clarke, urging her to run and they make a break through the dining room hoping to find another door or window—anything to escape the acid fog that follows after them. Trying to dodge around it, Lexa trips and goes sprawling, nearly taking Clarke down with her.

She looks back to see Cage with his arm extended, somehow manipulating the air around her feet. An invisible force wraps around her ankle and she slides a horrifying distance across the floor toward him, the acid fog curling around his shoulders as if reaching for her. Lexa scrambles for something to stop herself and finds a heavy table leg. Just as her hold slips, Clarke’s there, grabbing her coat to haul her back.

“Leave me!” Lexa kicks more frantically as the smoke starts to burn through her boot.

“Not a chance!” Clarke grunts, letting go of Lexa to pick up a chair and hurl it at Cage. He’s caught by surprise, the chair landing square in his chest and knocking him back.

With her leg free, Lexa stumbles to her feet and drags Clarke to the nearest wall, pulling the Babylon candle out of her pocket. She smashes through the glass of the nearest lantern just as Cage reappears out of the smoke, brandishing the knife.

Lexa pulls Clarke to her chest. “Hold me close and think of home!”

Clarke wraps herself tightly around Lexa’s waist as Lexa shoves the candle into searing flame.

They both shut their eyes against the flash of light that envelops them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come find me on tumblr and remind me to draw art for this


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ladies get accidentally captured by pirates and have a gay old time of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my v lovely beta for helping me make this chapter as gay as possible, you're the real star here darling

 

They’re moving fast, light bending around them. Lexa is at least semi-familiar with this feeling now, except this time she can feel a warm body wrapped tight around her own. She keeps her eyes shut and thinks _home, home, home—_

Then suddenly they’re not moving anymore, and it’s way too soon to have traveled far. The candle in her hand is gone, completely burnt out. All Lexa is aware of is that she’s very cold and very, very wet. She opens her eyes to wispy gray darkness, rain and wind buffeting them from all sides.

“Where are we?” Clarke’s voice is nearly lost over the roaring of the wind. Lightning ripples across the sky alarmingly close followed by a deafening crack of thunder that vibrates straight to the bone.

Lexa takes a step and nearly falls. Whatever they stand on is soft and insubstantial, almost like liquid. Her heart starts to race. _They’re in the clouds._ She looks at Clarke’s equally panic-stricken face and as they both realize their mistake at the same time. “Oh what did you _do_?”

Clarke reels back at the accusation. “What did _I_ do? What did _you_ do? _Think of home_ , well that was a _great_ plan! I thought of _my_ home and you thought of _yours_ and now we’re halfway between the two!”

Anger pushes away her panic. “Why did you think of _your_ home? Why would you think I wanted to go there?”

“You just said _home_ , if you wanted me to think of _your_ home, you should have said!”

“A crazy man wants to rip your heart out and you want more specific instructions! Perhaps you want it in writing, or a diagram maybe!”

“You know what, you—”

A net drops on top of them out of nowhere, cutting off Clarke’s exclamation. They fall against each other as the net scoops them up and unceremoniously dumps them on the deck of a rolling ship. Through the sheets of rain, they can barely make out a small crowd of people surrounding them.

“What have we got here?” A voice crows. “Couple a lightning marshals, eh Cap?”

A figure steps closer. “They don’t look like lightning marshals to me.”

“Well why else would they be out here in the middle of a storm?”

“Probably what we’re doing! Whatever the hell we want!” The crowd roars in agreement and the second voice adds. “Alright, throw ‘em in the brig. I’ll deal with ‘em later. We got lightning to catch!”

The net is pulled off and they’re hauled to their feet. Lexa is too exhausted to even attempt to fight them off, and from the looks of it Clarke feels the same. Their hands are tied behind their backs and they’re shoved into a dark room at the bottom of the ship.

Lexa just lies where she falls for a long while, letting her aching muscles relax. Clarke drags herself up to sit against the side of the ship and eventually, Lexa joins her.

They’re both soaking wet from the storm and the drafty room is by no means warm. Lexa tries to be subtle about how she sits as close as possible to help conserve their body heat without making Clarke feel crowded, but Clarke doesn’t hesitate to lean into her fully. After a while their combined shivering lessens to only the occasional tremor.

Lexa feels so incredibly tired. Aside from that short nap at the base of the tree back in the forest, she hasn’t slept in almost two days. She leans her head back and closes her eyes. There’s nothing but the whistling howl of wind, sharp cracks of thunder, and groaning protests of the ship navigating the storm to keep them company.

Eventually Clarke breaks the silence. “We used up the rest of Babylon candle,” she murmurs, a little wistful. She has no other way to get herself home.

Not opening her eyes, Lexa asks, “Would you have rather had your heart torn out and eaten?”

“Of course not. It’s just…Babylon candles are so rare—”

“We’ll find another one,” Lexa insists. After a moment, she adds, “Provided we don’t get murdered by pirates first.”

Clarke snorts, dropping her head back against the ship wall. “Huh. Murdered by pirates, my heart torn out and eaten, or be a gift for Costia… So many exciting opportunities.” She glances at Lexa out of the corner of her eye.

The corners of Lexa’s lips rise and she chuckles, too tired to do much else. They sit for a while, as the storm dies down. Clarke thinks Lexa might have fallen asleep, when she speaks.

“I should have just given you the candle when we first met. Then none of this would’ve happened. You’d be back in the sky, and I’d probably just be wandering around looking for my mother.”

Clarke shrugs her shoulders once, because, well yes, that would’ve been ideal.

“It was a silly idea,” Lexa sighs, opening her eyes and looking down at her knees. “Forcing you to come back with me, to impress a girl that barely acknowledges me.”

“It’s not silly if you care about her,” Clarke protests.

Lexa shakes her head. “Elliot was right. Love is just _weakness._ Look at the mess it's got us in.”

Clarke frowns at her. “Look, maybe I don’t know much about love, but I don’t think it’s weakness.” She knocks her shoulder against Lexa’s. “Tell me about Costia.”

Lexa flushes and looks away, her shoulders tens ~~e~~. “Well she’s… I mean I’ve known her my whole life? Everybody loves Costia. She’s beautiful and charming and she has everything she could want.” Lexa sighs, sadly. “And I’m just some shop girl. I don’t know why I thought I was cut out for adventure.”

“Hey.” Clarke ducks her head to try and catch Lexa’s eye. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned from watching Earth, it’s that people aren’t what they may seem. There are shop girls, and then there are those that just _happen_ to work in shops for the time being. And trust me; you’re definitely not _just some shop girl_ , Lexa. You saved my life. That’s not nothing.”

Lexa turns to look at her, full of surprise and gratitude. They’re sitting so close—their sides flush together from shoulder to knee—Clarke can see every detail of Lexa’s green eyes; see the emotions simmering behind them.

Clarke is also acutely aware that she’s _still_ only wearing a damn bathrobe. She breaks eye contact, her cheeks hot.

*

They spend the rest of the night in silence. Lexa falls asleep at some point, head lolling against Clarke’s shoulder, only waking when the ship takes a rolling turn and she almost falls over entirely. Disoriented for a moment, she looks up to see Clarke watching her with an amused expression.

Daylight streams through the porthole above their heads. Lexa shifts, trying her best to stretch with her hands still tied behind her back. “I have never been this sore,” she complains, rolling her neck back and forth. “I jumped on a moving carriage when I was looking for you, almost dislocated my arm.”

“Yeah, well I’m not too comfortable myself,” Clarke says, trying not to watch how the muscles in Lexa’s neck strain and flex. “See I fell from the sky and then some moron knocked me down _again_. It was very rude.”

Lexa shoots her a dry look. “You’re never gonna let that go are you?”

Clarke just raises an eyebrow and smirks.

“How did you even fall from the sky anyway? It seems like it’d take more than a simple necklace to knock a star down.”

Clarke sighs. “Well, it’s probably a magic necklace. It always is.” She tucks her chin against her chest, trying to see the necklace. Its weight around her neck has become familiar, even if its existence still vexes her. “Truthfully, I _was_ leaning over too far, trying to have a closer look at Earth, so it caught me unaware.”

Lexa laughs. “You know I once fell out of a tree doing that.”

“See? It happens.”

“Well, I was only a child then,” Lexa says, glancing slyly at Clarke. “How old are you?”

Clarke gasps, offended at the insinuation. “Hey! I may be many centuries older than you, but among us stars, I am still considered quite young.”

Lexa just laughs. She takes a deep breath, lets it out sharply through her nose and looks around. “I suppose we should be trying to escape, yeah?”

The small room they’re locked in doesn’t hold much. Some crates and netting. There’s only one porthole opposite the only door, which is surely locked tight.

“Even if we did, where would we go?” Clarke asks, reasonably. “We’re thousands of feet up on a sky vessel. Quite a long way to fall. Not one I’d like to experience a second time.”

“Well, I’m getting tired of waiting for them to come murder us, or whatever it is they plan to do.”

As if on cue, stomping footsteps approach the door. There are keys jangling and the door flies open with a thump.

“Well now, how did our little lightning thieves sleep, huh?” The man that enters is tall and broad shouldered, walking with a confident swagger. He’s dressed in a long overcoat, dark pants and knee high boots. His dark hair is curly and unruly around his ears.

“We’re not thieves,” Lexa says.

The man smirks. “Ok then, well now’s the time for you to tell me who you are, and why you were out there.” He leans back against the closed door, as if unconcerned with their explanations, casually resting his hand on the hilt of a sword.

Lexa glances at Clarke quickly, before speaking. “My name is Lexa Woods and this is my wife, Clarke—”

The man interrupts her with a booming laugh. “Your _wife_? Two young ladies such as yourselves are far too beautiful to be tied down. It’s share and share alike on my vessel, right guys?” His voice rises to a shout as he speaks and it’s met with a roaring cheer on the other side of the door.

“If you dare touch her—” Lexa growls, trying to be intimidating even while tied up and exhausted.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be threatening me. You’re on _my_ ship, so I make the demands around here. Now stop lying or it’s over the side with you!” Again his voice rises to a shout and another cheer sounds behind the door. He smirks. “It’s a very long way down.”

Lexa’s jaw tightens. “Look, we’re just trying to get back to my village. We’re not lightning thieves, okay? We’re just very lost and trying to get back to the Wall.”

“The Wall?” His eyes narrow.

“Yes,” Lexa says, nodding quickly, “I live on the other side—”

“The other side!” The man pushes off the door. “Now that’s one lie too many!” He strides over and hauls first Lexa and then Clarke to her feet. He shoves them out the door, keeping a bruising hold on their arms. The crew huddled in the hallway to listen quickly clear a path.

“I’m taking these ladies back to my cabin for some more _thorough_ interrogation. No one is to disturb us!”

“Aye Captain!” The crew shouts as one. Several send wolf whistles down the hall after them.

“Bellamy,” a voice snaps. They turn and see a young woman striding forward, a limp to her gait. She can’t be much older than Lexa, but she has a world-worn look to her. There is a brace on one of her legs, but otherwise she’s dressed similarly to the captain. “What the fuck are you doing?”

The man smirks. “Trust me, Reyes, I got this handled.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just don’t take too long, we’ve got that lightning shipment to take care of.”

“Don’t worry, we’re just gonna have a little _chat_ ,” the man says, winking at Clarke. The star recoils from him and Lexa growls. He just laughs, and pulls them along. When they reach the captain’s quarters, he pushes them both inside and slams the door shut.

“If you think you can lay a hand on either of us—” Clarke starts, but the captain is laughing.

“Relax, ladies. I’m not going to do anything to you.” He pulls a small knife out of his pocket and cuts their bindings. “I really do just want to talk.” He backs away, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture.

Lexa rubs her wrists, eying him with suspicion. “What was all that back there then?”

“Oh just an act for the crew, you know, gotta keep up my image and all that. I think it went well.” He smiles cheerfully, holding out his hand. “Bellamy Blake, captain of the Ark, the finest sky vessel in all of Stormhold.”

The girls look at each other doubtfully, and after a beat, he lets his hand fall.

“Ok, I deserved that. Look, how about you two sit down and I’ll bring you something to eat?”

Lexa tries to remain stoic, but her stomach growls loudly, bringing a flush to her cheeks. Clarke muffles a snigger with her hand. The captain takes that as an affirmative and directs them to sit down at the table nearby. The chairs are nicely padded, infinitely better than the cold wooden floor of the brig.

When the captain returns, he has two plates piled high with food and a young woman in tow. His younger sister, Octavia is shorter than Bellamy, but moves twice as much, seeming to vibrate with energy as she flits over to the table.

“Bell, they look like drowned rats. You just left them in the brig all night in wet clothes?”

The captain shrugs. “Hey, they were the ones dumb enough to get caught out in the middle of a lightning storm.”

“That wasn’t our fault,” Clarke frowns.

“It was kind of your fault,” Lexa mumbles and Clarke elbows her for it. “Hey, it was!”

“Don’t start,” Clarke says, holding her fork like a weapon.

Lexa eyes the fork but eventually decides it’s not a threat and goes back to eating. Clarke pokes Lexa’s arm before returning to her own food. Lexa jostles Clarke in retaliation and they engage in a small elbowing war.

“Cute,” Bellamy says, and they look up to see him and Octavia watching their exchange. He leans over to his sister. “They’re married.”

“Aw, congratulations!”

“Oh no—” Lexa sputters.

“We’re not—” Clarke adds, her face turning red.

“I made that up. We’re not married. We’re just—”

“Friends! Us. We’re friends. Lexa actually has a sweetheart back home, so.” Clarke waves her hand vaguely, looking anywhere but at Lexa.

The siblings watch them with amusement. “Sure, whatever you say.” Bellamy claps his hands together once. “Okay, I’ll leave you ladies alone for a while. I need to make sure our lightning quota is on schedule. I’m sure Raven will drive us right into a mountain if left unattended.”

Octavia rolls her eyes, as if this is an oft heard sentiment. “Don’t let her hear you say that or she’ll kick your ass. You know she’s the only one that keeps this bird flying.”

The captain huffs. “Whatever. I’ll be back later. Get these two something to wear, will ya?”

“I’m fine,” Clarke speaks up just as Lexa says, “That’s not necessary.”

Octavia fixes them both with a Look. “Princess, you’re wearing a bathrobe. And you,” she directs to Lexa, “look like you cobbled those clothes together from a trash heap.” Lexa scowls; her father may not be wealthy but he’s always provided for her.

“O, be nice!” Bellamy calls as he leaves the room.

“I suppose I _am_ still wearing a bathrobe,” Clarke mumbles. She really _really_ wants to wear proper clothes again.

*

When they're finished eating, Octavia herds them down the hall into a another cabin. It's larger than the captain’s and more cluttered. There’s wet clothing in a heap on the floor and some dishes sitting out on a small table. A long workbench covered by half assembled mechanical devices takes up the wall beside the door with an impressive knife collection hanging above it. Paneled windows along two sides allow bright sunlight to shine across a double bed currently occupied by a young woman sprawled out, face down and still fully dressed.

Octavia walks over and pats her leg. "Rae, take your brace off before you fall asleep."

She groans into the pillow.

Octavia rolls her eyes and leaves her be. She steers Clarke and Lexa over to sit at the table while she rummages through a closet.

"Alright, we've got plenty for you ladies to choose from," Octavia says, dropping a heavy pile of clothes on the end of the bed. “And I think my old boots should fit you."

Raven shifts, freeing her mouth from the pillow to speak. "O, who are you talking to and more importantly _why_ are you talking when I'm trying to fall into a nice comfortable coma?"

Octavia pats Raven’s leg again, harder than before. "If you used those big brown eyes of yours, you could see for yourself, sunshine."

Raven makes a show of rolling over and sitting up, groaning all the way. She blinks at them with tired, unamused eyes. "Ok why are the dirty lightning thieves in our cabin?"

"We're not _thieves_ ," Lexa says, exasperated.

"Why would we even want to steal lightning?" Clarke adds, frowning.

Raven snorts. "You obviously haven't been in the sky long."

Clarke barks out a laugh, startling everyone, including herself, but then Lexa chuckles too and soon they're both laughing. After the long strange night they've had, everything is funnier than it should be.

"Grounders are weird," Raven sighs, flopping back down and closing her eyes.

Octavia tugs on one of Raven’s boots. “Hey, don’t go to sleep, you have to help me dress them.”

“They’ve both got two working legs don’t they? They can stand to wait till I’ve gotten some sleep.”

“If you help, it means you get to critique their outfits and boss them around.”

Raven peeks one eye open, before sitting back up. “Alright, fine. You know I can’t resist passing judgment on lesser mortals.”

Octavia takes Clarke into the washroom first, leaving Lexa alone with Raven. After an awkward silence, Raven gets up and limps over to join Lexa at the table.

“Raven Reyes, Chief Engineer.” She holds her hand out and Lexa shakes it. “Finest lightning mechanic in the whole damn sky.” She sits down and starts unbuckling the straps on her leg brace. “So, you gonna tell me how the hell you landed your ass in the middle of a lightning storm?”

“Its—um. Its a long story.”

“Well, I’m dying to hear it.” Raven drops the brace on the floor beside her chair with a sigh of relief. She adjusts her leg with her hands until it’s comfortably stretched out, absently massaging the muscles. “You two running from something?” When there’s no answer, she pushes, “From some _one_?”

Lexa says nothing but her guilty face is confirmation enough.

Raven nods like she knew it all along. “Alright, let me guess. Jilted spouse discovers wife banging the mistress and you two had to make a quick escape or face their wrath.”

Lexa’s mouth drops and for a moment she can’t even stutter out a reply. “No! That’s—no, absolutely not!” She’s not even sure if she’s the wife or the mistress in this scenario, but either way is mortifying.

Raven laughs. “Alright, _chill_ , I was kidding.” She pulls some sort of small mechanical device over from her workbench to fiddle with. “Honestly, what am I supposed to think when princess over there shows up in a bathrobe, and _you’re_ well,” she gestures vaguely at Lexa’s attire. “I mean, you’re hot, but those clothes are doing absolutely nothing for you.”

The door to the washroom opens, saving Lexa from responding, and Clarke follows Octavia back into the room. She looks refreshed in a simple white blouse and black pants, her hair pulled back into a messy bun. Octavia fusses over the fit of the shirt, but ultimately declares herself satisfied.

“Feel better?” Lexa asks, standing so Clarke can take her seat.

“Much,” she sighs. Her smile is genuine and Lexa could swear Clarke glows in the sunlight.

As Clarke takes a seat, Octavia gestures for Lexa to follow her into the washroom. They hear arguing behind the door, then Octavia is forcibly pushed out and the door slams shut again. When Lexa steps out a few minutes later, she’s wearing a button up shirt and pants similar to Clarke’s, though they suit Lexa better.

“See? that’s what I’m talking about,” Raven says, nodding appreciatively.

Clarke just stares, taking in Lexa’s long legs and it takes Raven nudging her to bring her back to reality.

“It’s not that different from my old clothing,” Lexa protests, blushing, but she knows it's not true. The material is far nicer than any she has ever worn and the clothes fit better, since they’re actually tailored for a woman’s body. The pants are snug around her hips and thighs, not baggy, and the sleeves of the blouse reach all the way to her hands.

Octavia tugs at the material around her ribs. The chest is the only place the shirt is loose, as Lexa’s shoulders are narrower than Octavia’s. “Might have to take this in a bit. What do you think, babe?”

The engineer hums. “I don’t know, if it’s loose, you can hide shit up in there you know? A dagger or two, lockpicks, a tiny flask.”

“Good point.” Octavia turns to Lexa. “I’ve got another bra you can wear that has a dagger sheath built in.”

“Why would I _want_ —” Lexa starts, but then she’s being shoved back into the washroom.

In total, Lexa gets four daggers added to her person. One inside her right boot, one strapped to each of her thighs, and one tiny one hidden inside the bandeau style bra that Lexa could not talk Octavia out of.

“I don’t know why I need so many weapons,” Lexa says, fiddling with the hilt of the sword now hanging from her belt. It’s a fine looking weapon, despite some minor wear and tear. She learnt fencing in school, but other than the opportunity to impress Costia, she’d never gotten much out of the lessons. Too many pointless formalities and rules. Perhaps Octavia could teach her real sword fighting.

“You’re a sky pirate now,” Raven says, matter-of-factly, as Octavia forces Lexa into a waistcoat. “I guarantee everyone on this vessel has at least that many knives hidden somewhere on them. Some in very unpleasant places, no doubt, but you can’t be too careful. That’s life in the sky.”

“What about Clarke? Why aren’t you hiding knives up her sleeves?” Lexa protests, staring dubiously down at her chest where she knows there's a tiny dagger hidden beneath the material. She glances up to see Clarke disappearing back into the washroom carrying a bundle of blue fabric. “Clarke?”

Octavia distracts her, holding out a long coat. “Here, put this on.”

Lexa slips it on, adjusts the dark collar until it sits flat and steps in front of a mirror to check her reflection. The pale color of the jacket contrasts nicely with the brown waistcoat and dark pants. As a final touch, she pins her mother’s glass flower to the lapel. Even she has to admit, she looks quite dashing.

Octavia stands beside her, eyeing Lexa in the mirror, searching for anything amiss. After a moment of thought she nods to herself. "Hair."

"Hair?" Lexa repeats. Her chestnut curls are still pulled back into a single braid, though after a night in the pouring rain it’s become matted and wild.

Before she can protest, she's parked back in a chair by the window with Octavia undoing the end of her braid. She tries not to wince as Octavia detangles her hair and brushes it smooth. Once all the snags are gone, she starts plaiting Lexa's hair in a series of smaller, more intricate braids.

The washroom door opens and Clarke comes out, now wearing a deep blue dress that brings out the brilliant blue of her eyes. She fidgets with the bodice, adjusting it so it sits comfortably around her chest. When she looks up, she sees Lexa staring at her, mouth agape.

“Is it awful?” Clarke asks, kicking a bit at the hem of the dress. “I just liked the color—I should go back to the blouse and pants—”

“No, no!” Lexa clears her throat. More quietly she says, “You look beautiful.” Her eyes widen and she backtracks, quickly. “I mean, the dress is beautiful. It’s great. I—I love it.”

Clarke smiles, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

Behind them, Raven makes a loud coughing noise that sounds suspiciously like _gay disaster_. They turn, but Raven waves them off, hiding her laughter with more coughing.

Octavia give a low whistle. “You clean up good.”

Clarke walks past both Raven and Octavia to stand in front of Lexa. “Do you mind?” She turns to show the loose ties on the back of her dress. Lexa nearly chokes at the sight of Clarke’s bare skin, but does as she’s asked, slipping out of Octavia’s grasp to stand. Her fingers shake, but she reties each of the silk ribbons until the bodice is tight. Clarke glances over her shoulder, blue eyes shining as she murmurs a thank you.

Lexa allows Octavia to pull her back down so she can resume braiding her hair, but she keeps her eyes on Clarke.

Raven recovers from her laughter enough to give Clarke a proper once over. “Hey, where did you get that necklace? Looks fancy.”

Clarke touches the stone where it sits just below the hollow of her throat. “Oh um. It was...given to me.”

“Yes, a very generous gift.” Lexa nods.

Clarke shares a private smile with her as she wanders back to see Octavia's handiwork. She trails her fingers down one delicate braid brushing Lexa’s ear. “These look good. You’re like a real adventurer now.”

“Thank you,” Lexa blushes.

Clarke moves around to sit at the table. The front of her dress cuts a low v shape down her chest and when she leans forward, Lexa can see right down it. She seems oblivious to Lexa's staring though, too caught up in whatever Octavia is saying.

A sharp tug on her hair snaps Lexa out of her daze. "Ouch!"

"You aren’t listening Lexa," Octavia scolds. "Daydreaming, were you?"

Lexa carefully avoids Clarke's curious gaze as she stammers out an apology.

“As I was saying, Bellamy took over the Ark a few years ago, after our mother passed. I don’t think he really _wanted_ to be a sky captain, but he promised Mom he’d keep the old bird flying, so here we are.”

“So Bellamy made you come with him?” Clarke asks.

“Oh no, Bell was totally against that at first, said it was too dangerous or whatever.” Octavia swings the hairbrush to gesture, nearly smacking Lexa in the head. “I begged Mom to take me aboard for years, and I think Bell would’ve liked to lock me up under the floorboards if it would keep me safe.”

“So guess what the little hermit crab did?” Raven pipes up. “Shucked off that shell and stowed away in the cargo hold. Made it two days before yours truly discovered her.”

“Yes, but the important part is that _Bellamy_ didn’t discover me for almost a month and by then we were too far from home to go back.”

Lexa tilts her head. “What did you do in the cargo hold for almost a month? Weren’t you bored?”

“Oh she had plenty to _do_ while she was down there,” Raven grins, waggling her eyebrows, and Octavia reaches over to slap her arm.

*

The first big storm happens only a few nights into their stay.

They’ve taken over Bellamy’s cabin at his insistence that he can make do in the crew quarters. Lexa lounges in an armchair, reading an old history book while Clarke sits at the table, sketching something on a scrap of paper. Clarke refuses to say what’s she’s drawing or let Lexa see, but by the way she keeps glancing up at her, Lexa has a good idea. She tries not to fidget.

Rain patters against the windows, accompanied by a whistling wind, reminding them of their first night aboard. Except this time, they’re warm and dry inside the ship, safe from men with glass knives. Lexa’s eyes flicker up to catch Clarke staring at her again. Clarke flushes and looks back down at her sketch, her hand tightening around the charcoal pencil. Candlelight casts a warm glow on her skin, the shadow of her moving hand dancing across the wall behind her. It’s late, Lexa can already feel herself growing drowsy, but she knows Clarke will likely be awake till early morning.

The ship jolts and shifts into a turn, nearly sending Clarke tumbling off her chair. A klaxon sounds throughout the ship, long steady pulses; the signal of a lightning storm ahead. Footsteps echo through the decks of the ship as sailors hurry to their posts. Lexa sits up, any thought of sleep forgotten. She looks at Clarke, wondering what they ought to do.

Their answer comes in the form of Raven stomping into the room. “You two stowaways ready to harness the power of the gods?”

They’re given rubber jumpsuits, gloves, boots and a hat, to protect their bodies from the high voltages. Rain and wind is driving so hard, it nearly knocks them over. Raven has to shout the instructions several times before they can nod their understanding.

Capturing lightning, it turns out, is mostly about timing. Wide fins spread out from both sides of the ship, made up of long metal rods and a thinner metal mesh in between to attract and hold the charge. When lightning strikes the metal it surges through a series of pipes into holding cells arrayed across the ship’s top deck. The real work is in keeping the wings steady while making sure the cell meters don’t overload. It takes a few dozen good strikes to fill up a shipment.

Raven sets them up at a shutdown valve, directs them both to hold the lever and lower it as soon as the meter reaches the red zone so the next cell can be filled. It seems simple enough, until a bolt of lightning strikes the port side fin and suddenly _everything_ is vibrating with energy.

The lever in their hands rattles dangerously as the cells fills with power. Lexa is so tense, her knuckles are white as she grips the lever and Clarke isn’t much better. Bright licks of electricity dance over the deck of the ship, attracted to anything that isn’t wood or rubber.

The meter starts to inch into the red zone, the entire apparatus vibrating hard. It takes their combined strength to get the lever down. As soon as the cell closes, lightning rebounds out and dissipates with the vibration.

Lexa is still shaking from the surge of power she’d felt under hands, but Clarke looks utterly elated at the thrill of it. She turns and throws her arms around Lexa’s shoulders. Lexa freezes for a moment before hugging the star back, laughter filling her ears.

*

They lose track of days aboard the Ark, only descending from the clouds to collect supplies or to drop off shipments. Lightning storms could come at any time, so the crew kept strange hours to be constantly ready. It falls to Raven, with her uncanny knack for anticipating storms, to keep the ship on schedule.

Lexa falls into the rhythm of ship life. She and Clarke join the crew in every storm, help Raven with repairs, even take a turn keeping watch high up in the crow's nest. There’s always plenty to do and everyone is more than happy to let them help.

Lexa knows this can’t last; she has a home and it isn’t in the sky. Clarke on the other hand—Clarke seems to have come alive since they boarded the Ark. Perhaps it was the proximity to her true home in the heavens, or the lively company of their new friends. Perhaps she’s just glad to be free of murderous innkeepers with glass knives. Whatever it is, Lexa could swear Clarke grows brighter every time she looks at her.

And Lexa looks at her often.

Octavia slaps her on the arm with the flat of her sword. “Pay attention.”

Lexa lifts up her sword again to parry. “I am paying attention.”

Octavia smirks and they circle each other, looking for an opening. When Octavia lunges, Lexa dodges smoothly out of the way. She’s getting good, taking to instruction like a born warrior. As they circle again, she glances across to make sure Clarke is still watching. The star is perched on a railing, her eyes shining with amusement.

Lexa is distracted by the way Clarke glows in the sunlight, the breeze sending strands of her hair dancing across her face, to notice Octavia’s charge. She’s on her back before she realizes it, her sword lost, with Octavia sitting square on her chest to keep her pinned down.

“Don’t bother crying about cheating, I’m a pirate” Octavia grins as Clarke’s laughter fills the air. “You’re a pirate now too, so its time you start acting like one.” She leans down so only Lexa can hear the next part. “I’ll let you throw me off, it’ll be super impressive. Don’t worry, she’ll see.”

Lexa can’t help but let her eyes dart over to check and Clarke’s carefree smile is still there. Her heart clenches at how happy Clarke is. She wonders sometimes if maybe Clarke should just _stay_ aboard, even if the thought of leaving Clarke behind makes her feel hollow inside.  

She hooks her arms around Octavia’s legs and uses her hips to flip her off. Clarke applauds the display of strength and Lexa picks up her sword again.

*

The end of their journey aboard the sky vessel comes when Bellamy tells them they’re nearing the Wall. He pulls out a map and points to a shaded blue area indicating a lake. Further west at the very edge of the map is a long thick line marked simply _The Wall_ with a tiny slash indicating the gap.

Even on this side, the Wall is well known as a boundary line.  

“There are no skyports past this lake, so there’s where we’ll have to leave you. It’s only a couple days walk to the market and the Wall.”

Lexa examines the map, trailing her finger over the path they’ll need to take. Clarke looks over her shoulder, mostly for show, as she doesn’t especially care.

Bellamy leans his hip against the table. “You know,” he says, “when I was little, I used to sneak away from my mom at the market. I’d peek over the Wall to see what was over there. I’d heard all the stories. One day I wanted to cross the gap and see what was over there for myself.”

Lexa grins at the irony. “We’re not so different it seems. But I’m afraid you might be on the more exciting side.”

Bellamy laughs. “And yet you’re so eager to get home. What will you do when you get there?”

Lexa shifts uncomfortably and says nothing, so it’s Clarke who answers. “Lexa’s hoping to meet up with her true love again, and propose to her.”

“Oh?”

Clarke smiles slyly at Lexa. “She has a special _gift_ that should win her love’s heart.”

Lexa’s jaw tightens even as she lifts her head. “Yes, her name is Costia. She’s sort of the reason I ended up here in the first place.”

Bellamy raises his eyebrows, but Lexa carefully avoids eye contact. Clarke sighs and subtly shifts away.

“Come on,” Bellamy sighs, pushing away from the table. “We’re having dinner with the whole crew up on deck tonight.”

They look at him in surprise. Normally, they took their meals in either the captain’s or the engineer’s cabin, sometimes with them or sometimes alone, depending on what duties needed to be done aboard the ship. The rest of the crew ate in shifts down in the galley.

“It’s your last full night aboard the Ark; we’re having a bit of a party as a goodbye. It was Octavia’s idea.” Bellamy leads them out of the cabin and up onto the top deck.

The normal clutter of tarps, ropes, half empty crates and lightning equipment is cleared away, and tables and benches hauled up from the kitchen are set up in rows with piles of food and drink laid out. The atmosphere is lively as the entire crew sits down to eat together, something that only happens on rare occasions.

Raven explains the autopilot system she set up, allowing the ship to drift in the sky without losing altitude or changing direction. “I’m sort of a mechanical genius,” she says, shrugging.

The captain, seated beside Raven, snorts. “Yeah yeah, Raven, what would we do without you?”

“I have no idea, I’m _awesome_.”

After the food is cleared away the tables are pushed aside and one of the crewmen cranks up an old gramophone. He adjusts the needle until a soft waltz drifts over the ship in the cool night air.

Bellamy hops up immediately, holding his hand out to Clarke. “Care to dance, my lady?”

Clarke starts to shake her head. “I don’t know how.”

“I’ll teach you, come on.”

Lexa nudges her with her elbow. “You should try it, could be fun.”

Clarke nods and takes Bellamy’s hand. He leads her out to the middle of the deck and sets them up in an open form: her hand on his shoulder, his high up on her back, and their joined hands raised to shoulder height. Bellamy squares up their feet, keeping a polite distance between their bodies. He checks to see that Clarke is comfortable and sways into movement. It’s slow at first, and Clarke stumbles trying to keep track of Bellamy’s feet, but eventually they settle into a simple—if awkward—pattern.

“Where did you learn to dance?” Clarke asks, still watching her feet.

“A lovely young lady down south in Port Christie offered to teach me in exchange for—” he stops and blushes a little. “Well, for some services I was more than willing to provide.”

Clarke makes a face and rolls her eyes. “You’re a man of many talents, Captain Blake.”

Bellamy smiles and dips his head in acknowledgement. They continue to drift around the deck in comfortable circles, stepping almost to the beat. As they turn, Bellamy’s eyes wander over Clarke’s head to catch Lexa watching them.

He leans in, speaking quietly. “Clarke? I know what you are.” Clarke tenses, almost stops dancing, but Bellamy presses the hand on her back firmly, urging her to keep moving. “Don’t worry, no one on this vessel will harm you.”

Slowly, Clarke relaxes enough to resume their waltz, though her movements are stilted. Her eyes dart around to those scattered around the deck, enjoying the music. None of them seem to have noticed her unease. A few other couples have even gotten up to dance. Raven and Octavia are enjoying a looser waltz on the other side of the deck, with Octavia trying to dip a protesting Raven to the amusement of the crew.

Swallowing, Clarke looks up at Bellamy. “How did you figure it out?”

He chuckles. “It’s easy, if you know what to look for. You need to be careful. You’ve been glowing more brightly every day, Clarke.” He gives her a sly smile. “And I think you know why.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “Of course I know why I’m glowing, I’m a _star_. And what do stars do best?”

“Well, certainly not the waltz,” the captain laughs. A hand taps on his shoulder and they turn to see Lexa, looking nervous, but determined.

“May I cut in, Captain?”

Bellamy bows out, thanking Clarke for the dance. Lexa takes his place, trying to replicate Bellamy’s position, carefully cradling Clarke’s hand in hers, and reaching the other around to her back. Clarke rests her arm along Lexa’s shoulder, letting her fingers just barely brush the back of Lexa’s neck.

They square their feet up and—

“Wait, am I supposed to lead?” Lexa says, frowning at their feet.

Clarke laughs, shaking their joined hands. “Yes, idiot, you’re leading.”

Lexa looks up, smiling softly. “You’ll have to teach me.”

And so they begin to waltz, very slow and very awkward. Clarke tries to direct Lexa from what little she has learned, but mostly they learn through trial and error. A few times Lexa doesn’t move her feet far enough, causing them both to stumble or Clarke moves too soon and collides with Lexa, but eventually they get the hang of it.

“Very good,” Clarke giggles, when they make one complete turn without stumbling.

“I have a good teacher,” Lexa says softly. She no longer watches her feet, instead she watches Clarke with a quiet reverence. She looks at Clarke like she is still shining high in the sky, like she is the _only_ light there, illuminating Lexa’s universe.

“You look beautiful tonight, Clarke.”  

Clarke’s mouth goes dry. She wants to say it back (because Lexa _is_ , she is always beautiful) but Lexa doesn’t seem to expect anything so Clarke just murmurs a thank you and tries to contain her blush.  

Her eyes flicker down to Lexa’s lips. She wonders what it would be like to kiss her, if her lips would be as soft as her gaze, as warm as her embrace. Clarke thinks kissing Lexa might feel like being in the sky again, weightless and free. _Timeless_.

Her starlight is shining unchecked; she can see the halo glow surrounding and embracing them in soft light. She tells herself it’s only because she’s happy, that for the moment she is safe among friends, dancing beneath moonlight with her sister stars keeping watch above them. But deep inside her chest she feels a warmth that reaches out to the girl holding her so carefully as they dance.

Clarke has to wonder, if she is the star, why does Lexa seem to glow as well? Her shimmer is darker, as intense as those green eyes still watching her. Like she is the dark space Clarke’s light shines for, consuming and reflecting the light back, each revolving in symmetry.

The air between them is heavy and makes Clarke feel light-headed. She becomes aware that the slow waltz has ended and another, more lively tune has started. Other crewmen have gotten up to dance now. Bellamy has found a new partner in his sister, with Raven relieved to be sitting down again.

Clarke realizes how close she has gotten to Lexa. They’ve fallen out of waltz form with their bodies nearly flush from knee to breast (and when had that happened?), far past friendly boundaries. They’re not even moving much beyond a gentle sway. Clearing her throat, Clarke steps back, allowing a rush of cool air to fill the space between them and clear her head of fog.

She needs to get a grip. They have only known each other a few weeks, an infinitesimal moment compared to her centuries hanging in the sky. Even if Lexa did literally crash into her when they first met, it is not as if she has fallen for her.

Besides, Lexa has Costia and Clarke needs to get herself back home. They have diverging goals and it’s best not to grow any more attached.

Lexa tilts her head, brow furrowed at Clarke’s sudden withdrawal.

Clarke laughs to hide her flushed cheeks, wondering if Lexa can hear how loud her heart is beating. “We’re moving too slow,” she says, releasing Lexa’s shoulder and raising their joined hands above her head. “Spin me!”

Lexa does, holding just Clarke’s fingertips and gently guiding her twirl with a palm at her waist. Clarke turns, unable to contain her wide smile, and turns again just because she can. When she’s facing Lexa again, she grabs Lexa’s other hand to swing their arms back and forth and get Lexa dancing.

And so they dance, with clouds beneath their feet and wind in their hair.

And they dance, with warmth in their hearts and joy all around them.

They dance and the stars watch them from the heavens.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you so desire, please visit my tumblr @emclainable to see EXCLUSIVE ART related to things you have just read, thank you


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa eats some cheese, Clarke loses her heart and things get hairy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> endless thanks for @dancetyd for betaing this wonderfully as per usual

 

Landing in port is a somber affair. It's early in the afternoon, but the sky is dark and overcast. There's a storm brewing to the south so the Ark must be on its way again soon after dropping off its passengers.

Once the ship is properly docked with her ropes secure, the entire crew assembles on deck. Clarke greets everyone by name, having spent enough time with each to get to know them. Despite being among them only a few weeks, Clarke has come to care about this ragtag group of pirates and considers each of them lifelong friends.

Octavia sweeps forward and hugs her and Lexa both at the same time, knocking their shoulders together. "Make sure you stick close to this one, Clarke. I taught her everything I know."

She smiles and glances at Lexa. "I intend to." When Clarke moves on to give Raven a hug, Octavia shoots Lexa a private wink.

Raven presses a cylindrical case full of compressed lightning into Lexa’s hands. “You remember how to use this, right?”

Lexa nods, slinging the case over her shoulder so it sits comfortably across her back.

Bellamy shakes their hands one final time. "Good luck on your journey, ladies,” he says. “Clarke, wherever your home may be. And Lexa, with your Costia.”

Clarke tries not to frown at the mention of Costia and turns to walk down the gangplank. Halfway down she realizes Lexa isn't with her and glances back to see that Bellamy has snagged Lexa’s arm to whisper in her ear. Lexa goes red and her eyes dart up to meet Clarke’s briefly before swiftly looking away. Bellamy lets her go, nodding encouragingly.

"Just think about it," he adds in a louder voice.

Clarke waits till they’ve made it up the hillside, the sky vessel just a tiny toy sized thing in the distance, before bringing it up.

“What did the captain whisper to you?”

Lexa tenses beside her. “What did he whisper to me when?”

“Just then, when we were leaving,” Clarke says, exasperated. “He pulled you aside and whispered something to you.”

“Oh,” Lexa fumbles for a moment, tugging on the strap to the lightning case. “Uh, no, he—he just, he told me that I should use the lightning to get you a Babylon candle. You know, barter with it.”

“Okay…” Clarke trails off, side eying Lexa, unsure if she believes her or not. Lexa is normally so clear spoken, but Clarke doesn't know why she would lie, so she lets it go.

They continue on in  companionable silence for a while. The path isn't difficult, but it winds steadily uphill and the air grows chilly. Clarke starts to regret wearing the blue dress as it doesn't make the best travel wear and the light blue shawl Octavia had found for her doesn’t do much to keep out the wind.

(The fact that Lexa loved the dress certainly had nothing to do with her decision to wear it.)

Something heavy and warm drapes over her shoulders. Lexa's hands fall around Clarke's upper arms, rubbing warmth back into her. She starts at the feeling she knows isn't entirely from Lexa's jacket.

"You were shivering," Lexa explains.

Clarke tugs the coat tighter around herself, smiling shyly. "What about you?"

Lexa shrugs. "I'm warm-blooded. I'll be fine, don't worry."

Oh and Clarke knows exactly how warm Lexa is. She thinks of being pressed up against her on the ship the night before, dancing to soft music, breathing the same air, wanting to—she feels her cheeks darken.

“Clarke, may I ask you something?”

She startles out of her daydream, reorienting herself back to wind swept hills instead of a pirate vessel in the night sky. “Yes?”

“I have noticed that sometimes you sort of glitter. Is that normal?”

Clarke hadn't even noticed her starlight glowing and curses it for giving her away. The captain had _warned_ her to be careful. She laughs, covering her nerves with teasing. “Let’s see if you can work that out for yourself. What do stars _do_?”

Lexa pretends to think, tapping her chin. “Attract trouble?”

Clarke’s mouth drops open and she steps sideways into Lexa, attempting to knock her off the path, before skipping ahead out of her reach.

Lexa steadies herself and hurries to catch up, laughing. “Wait, wait, I’m sorry. Do I get another guess?" She takes a moment to think again. "Is it...they know exactly how to annoy a girl called Lexa Woods?"

"Yes, that's it," Clarke laughs. She tries to shoulder Lexa off the path again, but Lexa is ready for her this time, turning quickly and enveloping Clarke in her arms. Clarke shrieks as Lexa spins them around, ears filled with Lexa's laughter.

Then, Clarke catches sight of a large marker-stone beside the path. She stills when she reads the words etched into the rock.

_The Wall - 60 Miles_

An arrow underneath indicates which direction they must take. It's an unwelcome reminder of the purpose of their journey.

"60 miles? How long will that take?" Clarke asks as Lexa lets go of her.

"Maybe a few days? There's no need to rush, though."

Clarke shakes her head, plastering a bright smile on her face. "I'm sure Costia is waiting anxiously for your safe return. We'd better get moving." She brushes past, missing Lexa’s frown.

*

Despite what Clarke had said, she is in no hurry to make it the Wall and neither, it seems, is Lexa. They walk easy keeping up a light flow of conversation. It's a nice contrast to the start of their journey all those weeks ago, when they were reluctant captive and brash captor. There is no silver chain linking them together now, but Clarke wonders if there isn't something stronger there, just out of sight.

She doesn't try to look deeper though. Not yet. She wants to enjoy this time with Lexa as it is and examining just _why_ she can't control her starlight around Lexa would make everything more complicated.

They stop to make camp in the evening, when dusk is beginning to fall in earnest; far enough off the path to be out of sight of potential travelers, but still with a lovely view of the vast starry sky. Clarke points out the sisters she can see, though Lexa knows many of them now, after so many nights on the Ark.

Lexa settles in to sleep first, while Clarke keeps watch. She's still inclined to stay awake most of the night, so their system works well. And if it gives Clarke several uninterrupted hours of watching Lexa sleep, well that's just coincidence.

Her own starlight is plenty to see by (and Clarke's night vision is stellar, obviously) so they don't keep a fire. She pulls out the small bound sketchpad and a charcoal pencil she'd gotten from the Ark to pass the time.

It's already half filled with sketches of lightning equipment, piles of rope, endless clouds, and various Ark crew members, but mostly there's just pages and pages of Lexa. Clarke spends all her time with Lexa, so it makes sense she would be her primary model, but there's something about trying to capture Lexa's likeness, that makes her happy.

Lexa's lying on her back, with her face just turned toward her. Starlight illuminates the sharp arch of her cheekbones, the bridge of her nose, soft curve of her upper lip. Clarke smiles and sketches charcoal lines onto the page.

Just before dawn, as the last of the stars fall asleep in the sky, Clarke wakes Lexa so they can switch. She snuggles in the blankets still warm from Lexa's body heat, watching Lexa move around in the pre dawn light, setting up a small campfire. Lexa sits beside her cross-legged, resting her sword across her lap for easy access, and Clarke falls sleep feeling safe and protected.

*

It’s nearly midday when they finally see other travelers on the road. They're still a ways off, two people and a mule pulling a cart small in the distance, but they don’t appear particularly dangerous. Clarke thinks they can probably pass right by them with no more than a nod and polite greeting.

Before Clarke can say anything however, Lexa shoves her to the side, _hard._ The world shifts rapidly as she falls through a thicket and hits the ground. Then Lexa is there, scrambling up her body in the narrow space under the branches.

Clarke's brain nearly short circuits at the sight of Lexa crouched just above her, hands supporting her weight on either side of Clarke's head and knees bracketing her thighs. The branches are high enough to conceal them, but dense so Lexa stays close.

Clarke can’t quite catch her breath. “Lexa—” She's uncomfortable with the clasp of her shawl digging into her neck, but she's afraid to move, hyper aware of just how much of Lexa is pressed against her. “What are you—?"

Lexa shushes her, head turned to listen for the strangers passing. Her long curls spill over one shoulder, tickling at the skin of Clarke's exposed collarbone.

"You've already knocked me down once, are you keen to injure me again?" She squirms a bit, trying to adjust the shawl.

Lexa turns at the movement, shushing her again with two fingers pressed gently to Clarke's lips. “I don’t want them seeing you, Clarke. I don’t trust anyone.”

Clarke stills, her breath stuttering against Lexa's fingertips. The sun is high above them, haloing Lexa with light. She knows she's shining herself—how could she not be? Lexa is so so close, less than a hands breadth away, it would take no effort at all just to lean up and—

Clarke wonders if Lexa _knows._ It feels so keenly obvious why she glitters sometimes and _not_ just because she's a star; Lexa _must_ know. She wonders if Lexa still sees her as a means to an end, as a gift to win the heart of her true love, or if she has other ideas of immortality and everlasting youth. It would be so easy for Lexa to take her off guard, with how completely Clarke trusts her.

“Are you tempted?” She whispers, blue eyes searching Lexa's green.

“Tempted?”

Clarke is sure she doesn't imagine it when Lexa's eyes dart down to her lips, drifting closer, but now Clarke wants to know the answer. “Immortality?”

That gets her attention. Lexa leans back up, her brows furrowing. “You seriously think I could actually rip someone’s heart out and _eat_ it?”

A grin spreads across Clarke's face and she giggles. “Surely not.” She settles back into a contemplative expression. “It’s just—one of the black markets we visited, where the captain went to trade—there were whispers everywhere about a fallen star. Whether for money or immortality, they were all at least _tempted_ by the idea.”

Lexa thinks about the question more seriously, absently shifting her hips a little to try to escape the prickly branches. The movement reminds them both how closely they’re pressed together and she stops.

“Well, besides the fact that I never even considered a star could fall to earth and be a—” Involuntarily, Lexa’s eyes sweep down Clarke’s body, lingering on Clarke's exposed neck and collarbones, the tight fit of the dress bodice, Clarke's hand resting lightly near the crook of Lexa's elbow. She clears her throat and looks away, a flush to her cheeks. “Be _you_ , let alone that a star could bring immortality… No, I don’t think I’ve ever thought about it. Immortality seems like...like it could be rather lonely…"

Clarke frowns, her starlight dimming.  She opens her mouth to say something, but Lexa continues in a softer voice.

“Maybe….” Lexa murmurs thoughtfully, her eyes unfocused. “Maybe if you had someone to _share_ it with. Someone you loved. That wouldn’t be so bad….”

Clarke's chest tightens. _She means Costia. She's in love with Costia._ She swallows hard and when Lexa turns back, Clarke looks away, unable to meet her searching eyes.

Lexa peeks her head over the edge of the bushes. “Come on, I think they’re gone.” She crawls out first and then helps Clarke up, dusting the dirt off their clothing. When they continue along the road again, they don’t speak and the air is heavy with unspoken words.

*

The day is growing late when they hear the distant sound of a caravan, coming from a road that converges with their own, and headed in the direction of the Wall. Clarke sees an opportunity to catch an easy ride the rest of the way, but Lexa is hesitant. They duck down behind some rocks to discuss their options.

“We have no idea who they are. They could be dangerous,” Lexa argues.

“But we’ll get there so much quicker if we catch a lift. Aren’t you tired of walking?”

“I’m fine. Are _you_ tired of walking? We can stop more often if you want.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “That’s sweet, Lexa, but not my point.”

As the cart draws closer, Clarke is able to make out the figure seated in front, idly flicking a whip at the horse. “Hey, I recognize her.”

“You do?” Lexa peaks over the rocks. The woman didn’t look familiar at all.

“Yes, she was at one of the black markets we visited. She’s friends with Bellamy. Well—they know each other. I think her name is… Sydney? I bet she’d give us a ride.”

Lexa hesitates for a moment, but the cart is almost to the bridge and their window of opportunity is closing. Doing as Clarke asks, she climbs the bank quickly and jumps into the road to block the cart. Clarke follows right on her heels.

“Pardon me, ma’am!”

The woman pulls on the reigns, looking down at Lexa with distaste. She’s dressed in frumpy clothing, dirty and battered, and the woman herself is not much better. Her blonde hair is frizzy and unkempt, her skin leathery. The nasty curl to lip gives off an entirely unwelcoming air.

Still, Lexa continues, trying to look confident and commanding. “You're Sydney, correct? I believe we have a mutual friend. Captain Bellamy Blake of the Ark? I was hoping to barter for passage to the Wall.”

Sydney starts to sneer at Lexa's polite request, but catches sight of the glass flower pinned to Lexa's lapel. “That’s _my flower_ ,” she screeches, scrambling off the platform and rushing at Lexa.

“How dare you,” Clarke snaps. “That was a gift from her mother.”

Lexa unsheathes her sword just in time. Suddenly faced with a sharp blade in her face, the woman changes her tune.

“Oh, perhaps I was mistaken…" Sydney stutters, eyeing the blade. "Uh what was it that you wanted?”

"Safe passage to the Wall,” Clarke says.

“A Babylon candle?” Lexa adds, stowing her sword. Clarke jolts at the mention.

Sydney makes a noise that might be a laugh, her attention entirely on Lexa. “A Babylon candle? Oh I don’t deal with black magic.”

In fact, _everything_ about this woman screams black magic. Clarke clearly remembers the captain discussing a trade for some less than savory items.

“Really? Well, can you give us a lift then?”

Sydney sees her chance and jumps on it. "Why yes, of course. In exchange for that flower, I can give you passage to the Wall.”

“ _Safe_ passage,” Lexa stresses.

“I swear,” Sydney says, holding up a yellowed hand. “Food and lodging along the way and you'll arrive in exactly the same condition that you’re in now.”

Lexa glances at Clarke, who shrugs. Slowly and with some reluctance, she hands Sydney the little glass flower. It isn't as if her mother had personally given it to _her_ , but it's the only tangible connection Lexa has left to her mother, now that the original Babylon candle is gone and the silver chain useless. She supposes it’s worth it to get Clarke safely to their destination.

Sydney snatches the flower out of Lexa’s hand and cradles it to her chest. “Do you have any idea what manner of thing you had?”

 _It’ll bring you luck_. That was what her mother had said.

“Some sort of good luck charm?”

“The luckiest kind. _Protection_ ,” Sydney says in a sing-song voice. “The only thing that could have prevented me from doing _this_.” Without warning, she opens her palm and blows a fine red powder in Lexa’s face. Clarke reels back as thick smoke billows out and consumes Lexa entirely.

The smoke clears and in her place, snuffling around in the dirt, is a tiny, chestnut colored dormouse.

“What—what did you do!” Clarke gasps.

Sydney pays Clarke no mind, humming happily to herself as she squats down. For its part the mouse tries valiantly to escape Sydney’s yellowed fingers, but she catches the mouse's fuzzy tail and lifts it into her hands.

“ _Hey_ ,” Clarke yells, lunging at Sydney. She’s met with some sort of invisible barrier and is repelled back, without Sydney even noticing. Again and again, she tries to reach the woman but is pushed back each time.

Sydney ignores Clarke completely and heads back to her caravan, cooing softly at the mouse.

Clarke follows, her voice picking up volume. “Hey, you dirty old hag! Turn her back _right now_!” She halts at the door, watching Sydney tuck the dormouse into a small wooden cage.

Realization dawns on her. “You can’t see or hear me at all, can you?” There’s no acknowledgement so Clarke takes that as an affirmative.

“Well! I’d just like to tell you, witch, that you _reek_ of piss, you look like the ass end of a _dog_ and if I don’t get my Lexa back, I will _end_ you.”

Sydney turns to leave and Clarke hurries inside before the doors can be closed, skirting past the witch with a rude gesture. After a few minutes, the caravan jolts into motion again.

Clarke hurries toward the cage. The little dormouse is sitting in one corner, shaking. Her huge round ears flick at every little sound, while black eyes dart around nervously. Clarke opens the cage door and reaches in, but the mouse quickly dodges her hand, shuffling to the other side.

“Lexa,” Clarke murmurs. “Lexa, it’s me. Hey, can you hear me?” She peers closer, sitting down on the edge of the bed so she’s eye level with the cage. The mouse gives no indication that it understands Clarke at all; she merely looks around with frightened eyes.

“Lex-ah,” Clarke enunciates slowly. The mouse’s attention suddenly focuses on something on a shelf nearby, its little pink nose sniffing the air. A wheel of cheese. Of course. The mouse wants cheese, how cliché.

Sighing, she breaks off a piece and offers it to the dormouse. “I suppose you can’t hear me either then? I hope you’re still in there, Lexa. I don’t know what I would do if—” she breaks off, unable to finish the thought.

With the witch unable to see or hear Clarke, there’s nothing for her to do but wait until they reach the market. Clarke regrets ever suggesting they ask for a ride. Only a few hours ago, they were lying together in the bushes talking about immortality and love and—

Lexa had been against trusting Sydney and now she is a _mouse_ and the last of their time together has been stolen. _If_ the witch keeps her bargain, Lexa will be returned to normal once they reach the market, and they’ll be that much closer to Lexa’s village.

And Costia.

Which means the end of their journey together.

What will Clarke even _do_ once they get there? She hasn’t let herself think that far ahead.

She takes a deep steadying breath and thinks instead of these past few weeks, her first time on Earth, and how Lexa has been with her every step of the way. So far from home, with a sprained ankle and a magical necklace around her neck and this girl appearing out of nowhere, caring for her, keeping her safe.

Facing Cage and his glass knife, fearing she was going to die, Lexa was there— _Hold me close and think of home!_ Lexa, her eyes so fierce, holding her together and caring so damn much. She thinks of lightning and sword fights and late nights in candlelight, sketching the fine lines of Lexa’s face.  Of _—You look beautiful, Clarke,_ and dancing under moonlight.

She thinks of immortality. Of _Maybe…maybe if you had someone to share it with. Someone you loved_ and lying together in the thicket, Lexa so close she could feel her heart racing.

Clarke clears her throat and sits up a bit straighter. “Lexa, you know when I said I didn’t know much about love? Well I lied. I know a lot about love. See I've watched Earth for centuries and centuries. I've _seen_ it and sometimes it was the only thing that made watching your world _bearable_.

“I mean all those _wars_ , the lies, betrayals... The things people sacrifice just to survive," she frowns, shaking her head. "Made me want to turn away and never look down again. But when I see the way that humans _love_... You could search to the furthest reaches of the universe and never find _anything_ more beautiful."

Clarke pauses to break off another piece of cheese and slips it through the cage bars. She ghosts her fingers over the mouse, careful not to startle her, before withdrawing.

"So I know that love can be unpredictable... unexpected, uncontrollable, un _bear_ able… And I know you might think love is weakness. Maybe it is," she sighs. "But it's made everything I've been through since I fell to Earth _worth_ it, because I..." Her breath catches. She imagines Lexa as she was that night at the inn, careening around a corner, her eyes wild, hair clinging to her cheeks. A brave magical moron, determined to save her with nothing but a candle in her pocket.

“Lexa, I…I _love_ you.” She tries to find the right words to express this feeling sweeping through her. “This cosmic, _universe-_ spanning love, how can this be _weakness_? My heart, it feels so strong, like my chest can barely contain it. Like it doesn’t even _belong_ to me anymore, it belongs to _you._ ”

Clarke presses her hand to her chest, feeling the strong heartbeat. Her eyes close and she imagines a second heart beating with hers, rhythms perfectly in sync. “And _hiding_ from a feeling this powerful… _that_ would be weakness.”

She thinks of Costia weighing the worth of Lexa’s love by the amount of gold in her pocket, demanding the actual stars to barter favor. “And if you wanted it, I’d give you my heart without a second thought. I wouldn't ask for anything, no gifts, no demonstrations of devotion. Just to know you love me too. Your _heart_ , in exchange for _mine_.”

In the cage, the mouse chirps happily, nearly finished devouring the cheese.

*

The ride in the caravan lasts two days. Clarke spends much of it dozing, stealing food and sometimes talking out loud. She's doesn't think Lexa can understand, but her voice seems to calm the little mouse.

When Sydney stops sometime in the evening on the first day, lumbering to the back to get something to eat from her stores, a blue meadowlark flies inside. It perches up on a high shelf, chirping eagerly. Sydney grumbles and waves her away.

Clarke watches her with disdain, sitting cross legged on the back corner of the bed. Just for fun, she knocks over a couple of important looking vials, startling a stream of curses out of Sydney’s mouth. The witch glares where Clarke sits, but seeing nothing, goes back to her food.

After Sydney leaves to start moving again, Clarke spitefully rearranges everything in the cupboards. The meadowlark stays inside and now Clarke can see a fine silver chain attached to the bird's leg, connecting to the door of the caravan. Identical to the chain Lexa had used to take Clarke prisoner.

Clarke smiles, a little fondly, remembering their tumultuous first day together. She wonders what would have happened had the unicorn not freed her. Would they have simply traveled to the Wall as planned? Would she still have fallen for Lexa had they not shared their adventures?

A pointless line of thought, she supposes. Everything that happened _had happened_ and Clarke _is_ in love with this silly brave girl that had gotten herself turned into a mouse for all her troubles.

The meadowlark floats down and lands lightly on her shoulder, twittering softly. Clarke strokes its silky feathers and together they watch the dormouse sleep, curled up in the hay at the bottom of her cage.

*

It's nearly dark on the following night when they pull into the market. The place is aglow with lights, a sizable night crowd still milling through rows of vendors. The air is full of drunken laughter and haggling.

Sydney pulls her caravan into a spot that seems reserved for her. When the door opens, Sydney climbs in and retrieves the dormouse from the cage. Clarke follows her out, _accidentally_ knocking a few more important looking things off a shelf as she goes.

"Safe passage, just as I promised, little one," she hums, clearly pleased with the way she’s tricked Lexa. “You’ll be a bit unsteady for a while; the transformation tends to leave the mind a bit scrambled.”

She sets the mouse down on a clear bit of cobblestone. For a moment, Clarke worries the mouse will scamper away, but Sydney quickly leans down and blows red powder from her hands. Just like before, it blooms into a thick red smoke, completely enveloping the mouse.

Clarke watches, fascinated, as the small dark shadow within the smoke grows into a vaguely person shaped one. The smoke clears and there is Lexa, human once again. Just as the witch warned, Lexa sways on her feet, her eyes unfocused.

“You—how dare—” Lexa slurs, grabbing for the sword. She misses and topples to the ground, with Clarke just managing to catch her, saving her head from cracking the paving stone.

“I warned you,” Sydney laughs. “Save your strength.” She turns and heads back to her caravan. Clarke considers wrecking more of the witch’s things or something equally destructive, but Lexa is mumbling nonsense, still trying to reach for her sword, so she lets it go.

Clarke shifts Lexa onto her back. “Lexa,” she murmurs, brushing Lexa's cheek with her fingertips. “Are you okay? I’ve been so worried about you!”

Lexa blinks, green eyes still unfocused. A slow, dreamy smile spreads across her face. “Costia...."

Clarke scowls, the name slicing through her like a knife. “You know, I think I preferred _mother_.” She heaves Lexa to her feet, hitching Lexa’s arm around her shoulders for support.

Ignoring Lexa’s mumbled complaints, Clarke hauls her to the nearest inn and checks them in. A servant helps get Lexa upstairs and onto a bed, where she promptly passes out. Clarke wrangles her out of her boots, jacket and waistcoat, as well as any weapons she finds. The last thing Clarke needs is for Lexa to wake up disoriented and cut herself on one of the many daggers Octavia gifted her with.

She sits on the edge of the bed beside Lexa, brushing back chestnut curls. With nothing better to do, Clarke calls one of the maids to prepare a bath. She hasn’t had a proper one since her last (rather disastrous) stay at an inn and is anxious to try one again.

A tub is set up with a wooden screen, to give her a bit of privacy, though she doubts Lexa will wake any time soon. She ties her golden hair back, undresses and slips into warm water.

So, the witch had kept her promise and now she has Lexa back, safe and sound. It’s one weight off her heart, though another seems to have only gotten heavier. Now that they’re in the market, they’re only a short walk from the gap in the Wall, and beyond that Lexa’s hometown.

And Costia, as Lexa had so thoughtfully reminded her not too long ago.

Would they leave immediately at first light? How did Lexa even plan to _present_ Clarke? Tie a ribbon around her neck, put her on a silver platter? It was sure to be awkward any way she imagined. No doubt, Costia expected something a little more star-shaped.

And Lexa had promised to get Clarke back in the sky. Once she had Costia, would she remember her promise?

She sinks lower in the water, trying to force such thoughts out of her head.

The wooden partition jerks suddenly, threatening to topple over, and Lexa appears beside it, blinking. “Hello?” She says, voice sleepy.

Clarke nearly jumps out of the bath. She quickly twists away, shielding her upper body. “Lexa! Close your eyes!”

Lexa’s cheeks flush with color and she spins around. “I’m sorry, Clarke! I didn’t—I woke up and I didn’t know where I was—”

Clarke climbs out of the bath, wrapping a towel around her body. Lexa is still muttering apologies, both hands covering her eyes.

“Its fine, Lexa, really,” she calls. Keeping one eye on Lexa to make sure she doesn’t turn around, Clarke dries herself quickly and slips into the sleep garments the maid left out for her. “Okay, you can open your eyes.”

Lexa hesitates a moment longer before peeking an eye open and only when she sees that Clarke is decent does she open them completely. Clarke moves over to a mirror set up above the small dresser and pulls her hair down. There's no brush to be found so she begins to finger comb out the tangles.

“I’m not mad,” Clarke says, to break the silence.

Lexa nods, watching her.

“How are you feeling? Still craving cheese?”

“No, I feel quite fine,” Lexa laughs. “You took good care of me. I hope I wasn’t too much trouble.”

Clarke smiles softly. “Not at all.”

They’re quiet for a moment as Clarke finishes combing out her hair. She feels nervous and jittery under Lexa’s intense gaze, her heart flipping in her chest.

“Clarke?” Lexa murmurs, stepping closer and taking a deep breath.  “Can I ask you… about what you said in the caravan? Was that how you really feel?”

“What I said in…” Clarke repeats slowly. Her head jerks up, eyes wide, realization falling like ice down her back. “You—! You understood all that?”

When Lexa nods, a shy smile tugging at her lips, Clarke gasps in horror. “But! You were a mouse! You wanted _cheese_! You—I asked you—Why didn’t you give me a sign?” She steps back, as if realizing how close they’re standing, and covers her face with her hands. Her cheeks burn beneath her palms, and she knows the red flush must reach down past her collarbones.

Gentle hands grasp her wrists and coax them away from her face. “Hey, I’m sorry for not chirping at you, or however it is that mice communicate,” Lexa says, “but I had no idea you were going to say all those lovely things.”

Drawn in by Lexa's gaze she feels like they’re back on the Ark, waltzing clumsily under starlight, aware of nothing but each other. Like her heart is suspended in her chest, ready for the fall.

“Do you want to know what the captain really whispered to me, that day we left the ship?”

Clarke nods, unable to speak.

“He told me that my _true_ love was right in front of me.” Lexa smiles warmly, cupping Clarke's jaw in her palms. “And he was right.”

Clarke takes a shuddering breath, unable to keep her starlight from bursting out in earnest, bathing them in a warm glow. Lexa slips one hand behind Clarke’s neck to draw her in, and Clarke doesn’t hesitate, she leans forward to meet Lexa halfway.

It’s gentle and so so soft, feeling like _finally_ and _everything_ and all of the best things she had imagined. Clarke has to break away after only a moment, unable to contain her wide beautiful smile. Lexa pulls back just enough to bump their noses together gently before leaning in again.

Clarke sinks into her, grabbing at Lexa’s waist, pulling close. Her body feels warm and energized, like lightning is coursing between them. Lexa runs her hands through Clarke’s shining hair, humming softly against her lips. They separate for air, but Clarke can’t resist pressing kisses down her jaw.

Lexa sighs Clarke’s name into her ear. They lean their foreheads together, breathing in the same air, feeling the warmth between them.

"You taste like starlight," Lexa breathes, absently.

Clarke giggles. "I _am_ starlight." She presses a kiss quickly to Lexa's mouth. "I've been wanting to kiss you for a while now."

"Before the caravan?"

"Way before."

"So it wasn't my whiskers that convinced you?" Lexa teases.

"Oh no that sealed the deal," Clarke grins, digging her fingers into Lexa's sides to tickle her. "You made a very adorable mouse."

Lexa laughs, leans back a bit. She sways a little dangerously and Clarke has to grab Lexa's arms to keep her steady.

"Maybe we should—" Clarke says.

"—sit down," Lexa nods. Her head is still a bit foggy and kissing Clarke has chased away any clarity she's managed to gather.

They sit on the edge of the bed and Clarke slides her hand down Lexa's arm to lace their fingers together.

"What did it feel like? Being a mouse, I mean."

Lexa stares at their intertwined hands, rubbing her thumb slowly across Clarke's knuckles. "Strange. Like I was trapped in a box. I could hear your voice but I didn't know how to move my body and my vision was muted."  She looks up at Clarke, meeting vibrant dark blue eyes. "I was afraid, but I could hear your voice so clearly and that calmed me."

Clarke leans into Lexa, feeling her starlight flicker brighter with each thump of her heartbeat. She doesn't think the warm glow will ever diminish, not with Lexa so close, so open, encompassing Clarke's whole heart. "I was so worried I would never see your face again, never hold your hand, never—"

Lexa cuts her off, connecting their lips again. Clarke sighs into her mouth, bringing her free hand up to hold Lexa's cheek, pushing harder into the kiss.

"I'm here now," Lexa murmurs, moving down to nuzzle at Clarke's neck, grazing lips and teeth against skin.

Clarke tilts her head, allowing more access, her eyes closed. The warmth in her heart hasn't abated, but she feels a new heat spreading. An unfamiliar heat that burns gentle yet devastating, filling her with needs and desires she scarcely knows how to voice.

Lexa's hands aren't idle either, her palms setting fire wherever they touch—running down her arms, scratching up her sides, sliding across her shoulder blades. Clarke hisses, feeling Lexa bite down at the juncture between her neck and shoulder.

Lexa pulls back at once, worry etched into her green eyes. "I'm sorry, I don’t know why I—"

Clarke immediately seals their lips together, moving with more urgency, feeling the heat rising. She pushes at Lexa's shoulder, urging her back further on the bed. Lexa obliges, scooting up till her head can lay on the pillow, with Clarke trying valiantly to keep their lips connected as she follows.

Clarke throws her knee over Lexa's hips, lowering until their bodies touch. The position mirrors that moment hiding in the bushes, talking in hushed voices of love and immortality. That charged moment feels so long ago already.

She threads her fingers into Lexa's curls, leaning into a new kiss. Lexa runs her tongue along Clarke's lower lip and Clarke allows her to lick past her lips through a soft moan. Clarke searches for friction with canting hips.

Lexa pulls back with a gasp. "Wait, Clarke, I—"

Clarke tries to catch her breath. "Are you okay?"

Lexa seems to have a similar issue with breathing. Her pupils are blown, her mouth red and kiss swollen. "Yes, absolutely, I just—I...." She trails off uncertainly, her brows furrowing.

"We can stop—" Clarke says, sitting up and starting to roll off.

"No! No," Lexa says, grabbing Clarke's hips to still her. "It's not that. I just—I don't know what I'm doing. I've never... I don't want to hurt you somehow or do something wrong." Her thumbs rub unconsciously against Clarke's hip bones. Clarke tries not to squirm.

Instead she smiles softly at Lexa's adorably concerned face and takes Lexa's face in her hands, thumbs soothing across cheekbones. "It's okay," she leans down to press a kiss to Lexa's mouth. "I can teach you."

Lexa jerks back. "Wait how do you—" her eyes narrow—perhaps as she tries to think of a time when Clarke was away from Lexa long enough to _learn_ and from _who_ —

Clarke shakes her head with a light laugh. "Not like that." Lexa still looks perplexed, so Clarke continues. "You forget I'm a _star_. I've been watching earth at night for centuries, and there's only one thing you humans like to do at night more than sleep."

The meaning hits Lexa with a red hot flush to her cheeks. Clarke laughs at Lexa's tiny murmur of "Oh."

She guides Lexa back down to the bed. "I'm a good teacher, remember?"

*

Earnest, awkward and imperfect, the night is still theirs. Two people moving together in tandem, sharing the same space, the same heart. Lexa lifts Clarke higher than she has been since she first fell from the heavens and carries her gently back to Earth once more. They whisper _love_ in touch over and over, pressing forevers into heated skin, and each time Clarke’s name falls from Lexa’s lips, it sounds like a revelation.   

*

In the quiet darkness leaning into Lexa’s sleeping body, Clarke feels like she is forgetting something important. She can't fathom what could be more important than this moment, this beautiful girl, this exquisite exhaustion coursing through her body.

The anxiety that had plagued her earlier is gone, leaving her feeling as weightless and ethereal as she did hanging in the sky. Tomorrow’s questions still remain but they’re radically shifted in tone from dread to curiosity. She can't be bothered to remember a single worry at all.

Clarke thinks maybe home isn't in the sky or on the ground, not even in the clouds in between, but maybe it's this feeling. A feeling where the heart feels warm and pliant, where strong arms hold her and won't let her fall ever again.

She thinks maybe right here lying beside Lexa, tracing over soft skin, with murmurs of _my love_ in her ear as she drifts off to sleep, maybe this could be home.

*

Except—

Except in the morning, Lexa is gone.

*

There’s a brief, content moment _before_ , where Clarke wakes to warm sunlight on her skin. Judging by how much light is filtering into the room, it’s at least mid-morning, but this is the earliest Clarke has woken up willingly, feeling so remarkably well rested. She knows it has everything to do with the lightness of her heart and the girl who holds it.

She had expected to feel Lexa’s arms still around her, as they had been when she’d fallen asleep, but she brushes off the disappointment and stretches cat-like under the sheets. There’s no movement behind her, so she rolls over to wake her bedmate, eager to see sleepy green eyes and soft smile again.

But instead—the other half of the bed is roughly made, the set of sleeping clothes folded on top and the pillow cold. A charcoal drawing Clarke had done of Lexa is sitting beside the clothing on the bed, carelessly folded in half. And Lexa is gone.

Clarke sits up and calls out Lexa’s name, but only silence greets her. Her stomach drops uncomfortably, confusion overtaking warm happiness. She lies back down, listening to her heart beat too fast. Surely, Lexa has just stepped out to get something to eat, thinking Clarke wouldn’t wake till midday at the earliest. Surely, she’ll be back soon.

But Lexa doesn’t return.

Clarke picks up the drawing and traces over the rough lines. She's getting better, but she doesn't think she truly captured the fine angles of Lexa's face, the soft turn of her lips, the focused green eyes. Lexa had loved it though, had asked to keep it so solemnly that Clarke couldn't refuse. Why was it sitting out now like some sort of goodbye letter?

She tries to remember the contented feeling she felt when she first woke, but dread has begun to settle in the pit of her stomach like a leaden weight. It doesn’t help that she is naked beneath the sheets, all alone in this bed for two.

Feeling suddenly frantic, she gets up and dresses quickly. As she does so, she finds that not only are Lexa’s clothes gone, but the rest of her things as well. In fact the only things left in the room that aren’t the property of the inn, are Clarke’s. She looks around thoroughly, looking for a note or something left behind, but there is nothing.

Downstairs the innkeeper is sitting behind his desk, feet propped up with his eyes closed. Clarke raps her knuckles on the wood to get his attention.

“Excuse me, have you seen my friend? The girl I came in with?”

The man nods, yawning. “She left, absurdly early.”

Clarke frowns. “She… _left_?”

“Yup. Left you a message too. Said something about going to see Costia, because she’s sorry, but she’s found her true love and wants to be with her for the rest of her life.”

 _Costia_. Clarke’s stomach bottoms out completely. She feels numb when she asks, “Are you...are you sure?”

“Positive.”

It feels like an absurd joke. Nothing about that makes sense. Hadn’t Lexa said _Clarke_ was her true love, right before they’d kissed?

But then, they hadn’t talked about anything after, just fell into an easy sleep, unconcerned with tomorrow.

Had Lexa woken up and remembered what Clarke forgot? That outside these walls was a real world and a girl named Costia that Lexa was already committed to. Had she looked at Clarke and felt shame, felt the need to escape before Clarke even woke, leaving only a vague parting message with a sleepy innkeeper?

Clarke wanders out of the inn. The market is still half asleep, morning vendors just starting to get their stalls ready for business. Only a few patrons mill about and they don’t pay Clarke any mind as she walks aimlessly down the empty streets. A voice shouts behind her, but Clarke ignores it, too consumed by the white noise in her ears.

She knows the way to the gap in the Wall. The innkeeper had given her directions the night before when she’d checked in. When she’d been hauling Lexa along like a sack of flour, warm weight pressed into her side. Clarke feels cold now, and not just because of the cool morning air.

She has to find Lexa, make her explain that message, make her explain why she’d made love to her and then left her there alone.

“It can’t be over,” Clarke whispers.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sweats* don't kill me


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa gives chase, Clarke shines and everyone gets what they deserve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terribly sorry about the wait, insert whatever excuse you like best. All the thanks to @dancetyd for betaing this like 4 times and helping me make it as thoroughly sweet and sappy as possible. Also heads up for some blood and violence, if that's not your thing. Please hit me in the comments or on tumblr @emclainable with your thoughts. This is big finale! Enjoy~

  

When Lexa wakes it's barely dawn. The room is filled with the soft glow of Clarke's starlight, shining in her sleep. Clarke's warm naked weight presses against her side, legs tangled with hers, and an arm thrown loosely across her torso. Steady breaths puff against Lexa's neck, making her shiver.

Clarke is radiant, her shining golden hair spread out across the pillow, face relaxed and peaceful. Lexa brushes her fingertips across Clarke's bare shoulder and the star murmurs, burrowing closer and tightening her arm possessively. Lexa smiles.

She thinks she would like nothing more than to wake up like this everyday for the rest of her life.

_This is what true love feels like._

Lexa feels light and giddy. The looming end of their journey is lifted, replaced with a glorious promise of a future together.

But before that future can begin, she needs closure for her past. She needs to see Costia one last time and put her childhood infatuation to rest. And if nothing else, to let Costia know she is alive and well. For all Costia knew, Lexa had left on a fool's quest and perished in pursuit of her affection. She couldn't let her live with that guilt.

Clarke won't be pleased. Lexa plans to take her to meet her father later in the day, but she wants to get this over with as soon as possible. She could be to Costia's and back before Clarke even wakes.

Slipping carefully out of Clarke's embrace, she dresses quickly, shivering in the cool morning air. Clarke murmurs in her sleep again and rolls over. Lexa resists the urge to crawl back in bed with her.

All of her things are piled on the dresser. Her sword and daggers clink as she clips the belts on. She buttons her waistcoat and slips on the long white jacket. The case of lightning Raven gifted her goes on last. She smooths down her jacket and slips her hands into her pockets.

There's a folded piece of thick parchment paper in one. She pulls it out and smiles at the drawing of herself Clarke had given her their last night aboard the Ark. Though the lines form her own face, they’re drawn with such care, she can see Clarke in every stroke.  

Lexa sits down on the edge of the bed, setting the drawing on the pillow. She wants to touch Clarke, talk to her, see her smile, but she doesn't want to wake her. Instead she takes her dagger out and carefully cuts a lock of Clarke's hair, wraps it up in a handkerchief and puts it in her pocket.

Her boots are too loud on the wooden floor so Lexa carries them outside the room before slipping them on. Downstairs, the innkeeper is fast asleep and snoring, his feet propped up on the counter and his head lolled back. Lexa rings the bell to wake him.

"What? What is it?" He slurs, jolting up with bleary eyes.

"Do you have a piece of paper and a pen?"

The innkeeper scowls when he focuses his gaze on her. "Ask me again at a more reasonable hour."

"I don't have time, I need to go," Lexa frowns. "If my friend wakes up before I get back, can you give her a message for me?"

The innkeeper blinks slowly at her. "Yea, sure. Go ahead."

His sleepy demeanor does not fill her with confidence that he will at all remember her message but she gives one anyway. "Tell her that I've gone to see Costia, because I must tell her that I'm terribly sorry but I have found my true love," she can't help but smile and add, "and I want to spend the rest of my life with her. So I must say goodbye."

"Got it," the innkeeper says through a yawn. He props his feet back up on the counter and closes his eyes. Within minutes, he's snoring again. Lexa sighs and leaves.

*

The early morning air is cool and refreshing as Lexa walks the streets of her hometown. The few people out and about so early—mostly shopkeepers getting their stores ready to open—stop and stare at her as she passes. Lexa nods to them, offering a cheery ‘ _good morning’_ and a ‘ _how are you?’_ which don’t get returned. It doesn’t bother her; her mood is too good.

The sleepy hamlet is exactly as she remembers, but she feels as if she has been gone for years, decades even, not just a few weeks. Everything about her life before she met Clarke feels foreign and distant.

 _Clarke._ She feels the sting of apprehension leaving Clarke behind, but she knows this is something she must do alone. And if she hurries, she will be back before the star even wakes.

Costia's neighborhood is quiet. When she reaches the house, she briefly considers slipping in the side gate and tossing a pebble at the second floor window for old time's sake, but instead she heads right up to the front door. She feels too grown up now for such childish antics. After rapping her knuckles sharply on the wood, she steps back to wait.

The door opens with a flourish and Costia appears, fluffing her hair, a practiced greeting already forming on her lips. It's obvious by the way she freezes at the sight of Lexa that she's expecting someone else.

Lexa smiles, amused at Costia's reaction. She knows how she must look—dressed in her finely tailored clothes, a real sword hanging from her belt, back straight and confident—nothing like the poor little shop girl she was before.

“Hello,” she says, to break the silence.

“Lexa?” Costia breathes. She’s barefoot and wearing just a simple summer dress made for lounging about the house with a shawl pulled around her shoulders, but she steps outside anyway. “You’ve been gone for weeks, what...what happened to you?”

Lexa considers her answer. "I found the star.” It’s the simplest explanation for her odd adventures.

“You… you found it?” Costia breaks into a grin, her shock forgotten for the moment. “I can’t believe you actually did it! Where’s my star? Can I see it? Is it beautiful?”

Lexa smiles, fondly. “The most beautiful I have ever seen.” She pulls a handkerchief out of her pocket, carefully folded up.

“It’s awfully small,” Costia pouts, leaning forward to examine the small package.

“Well, this is just a little piece." She suddenly thinks of something else. "A token, for your birthday."

“My birthday was two weeks ago, silly. You missed it.”

“Did I?” Lexa raises her eyebrows. They hadn't exactly kept track of days, but Costia's birthday had been firmly etched in her mind for as long as she could remember, and yet it had slipped by without her noticing.

Costia steps forward, pushing Lexa's hand aside and draping her arms around Lexa’s neck. “Forget the star, it's not the star that I want. You _know_ what I want."

A month ago, Lexa would have done anything to be here: Costia staring at her with adoration and desire, leaning in for a kiss. But now all Lexa can think is that Costia’s eyes are brown and not blue and she has to angle her neck down further to see them.

She tries to disentangle Costia’s arms. “Ah—I can't. I— my heart belongs to another.”

Costia jerks back, confused. Lexa takes the opportunity to pull Costia's arms away and press the handkerchief into Costia's hands. "Please—just take this."

“Woods!”

They both look up to find Elliot Quint standing near the corner of the fence, a look of bewildered anger on his face. His nose seems to have healed well enough, though Lexa thinks she can detect a slight lump on the bridge.

Costia giggles. “Oh Elliot, what a nice surprise! Lexa here has just returned from a perilous journey to bring me a fallen star, what have you brought for me?”

Elliot falters, looking from Costia to Lexa to the small handkerchief in Costia’s hands. His eyes drop to the wrapped package he holds, his thumbs brushing along the bright red paper.

Lexa can’t help but laugh a little at her former rival. “Elliot, relax. I’m not here to steal her away from you. The two of you are perfect for each other, truly. I wish you the best.” She glances over to see Costia finally looking at the contents of the handkerchief.

“Well why would I want this anyway?” Costia sulks, wadding up the handkerchief again and throwing it back to Lexa. “Just a handful of stardust? You can have it back.”

Lexa catches it, startled. “Stardust?” She lets the linen fall open and a fine silver dust spills out between her fingers. “No…”

It was shining blonde hair when she’d cut it that morning while Clarke slept. Beautiful golden strands that still glowed with starlight even as she wrapped it up.

And then she’d crossed through the gap back into the human realm and the magic was gone. “Clarke… she can’t cross the Wall...” If this is what happened to just her hair, then what would—

She looks up in alarm. It's already mid-morning, how longhas she been gone? Would Clarke be awake by now? What if she came looking for her? Would she try to make her way to the Wall by herself?

Without sparing a word to Costia and Elliot, Lexa tears off at a sprint. She’s on the far side of town and then there’s the short stretch of forest and the meadow before she reaches the gap. She knows all the shortcuts through town, but it’s still a race if Clarke is already on her way to the Wall from the inn.

She only prays she reaches it first.

*

 _It can't be over_.

Nothing is ever over when you're a star in the heavens. Things _appear_ to end only to cycle around and begin anew. That is what Clarke has learned. So she simply has to find Lexa and everything will cycle back to how they were before this morning.

Simple.

Find Lexa. Begin again.

That means finding the Wall. She has never seen it but she supposes a wall will be hard to miss. There is even a convenient road that will lead her right to it.

If she was in her right mind she might hear the woman calling out to her in the market. She might hear the creaking protest of the caravan breaking out of its blocks. Might hear the clatter of hooves pursuing her. But it is not Lexa's voice so she does not pay any attention, and keeps walking.

The Wall appears unassuming in the middle of the meadow, stretching away in either direction as far as the eye can see. Clarke half expects a guard to be blocking the gap, but there's nobody there. The landscape is quiet and warm with the rising sun. There are birds chirping.

The thrum of dread in her stomach doubles with each step and faintly she knows this is _wrong_ and there's a reason she shouldn't cross the gap, but she can't remember why.

The birds chirp louder, panicked now at the sounds of the horse tearing down the forest road. The curses and screams of the poor trapped occupant in the locked caravan only adds to the cacophony. The driver spurs her horse on faster.

Clarke steps into the knee-high grass, her dress catching on the stalks. This dress that Lexa loved, that she wore only to see that particular look in Lexa's eyes.

The caravan skids to a halt behind her, the driver leaping down. Clarke is just stepping over the first stones of the gap when her arm is grabbed and she's pulled back. She stumbles and turns to find a woman, breathless and frantic.

"Stop!" She pants. "If you go that way, you'll die!"

The woman is strangely familiar. She's older, maybe mid thirties and there's gray spread through what must have once been rich brown curls, but her bright green eyes and high cheekbones remind Clarke of Lexa so intensely that she nearly chokes.

Clarke shakes her head, confused. "What?"

"If you step foot on human soil," the woman clarifies, "you'll turn to stone."

Clarke looks back at the gap and now that she's aware, she can _feel_ how the magic in the air crackles and dies right at the border. The magic of Stormhold extends only as far as Stormhold itself. She should know that.

She's about to ask the woman's name, when there's an explosion of cracking wood behind them. They turn and see the witch, Sydney, tumbling out of the wrecked back doors of her caravan.

The witch is in a rage,  weathered face nearly purple and frizzy hair standing on end. She grabs something off the ground and yanks, sending Clarke's rescuer sprawling. There's a thin silver chain locked around her ankle, a leash Sydney is steadily reeling in, spouting threats and curses.

 _The meadowlark_ , Clarke realizes, suddenly. The beautiful blue meadowlark that had kept her company during the ride in Sydney's caravan. The witch's slave, hidden in plain sight.

Something Lexa told her sparks in her memory. _The beautiful princess Luna, tricked into being a witch's slave with a magic silver chain locked around her ankle and only the witch's death could free her._

Was this...no, it couldn't be. Was this _Lexa's_ _mother_? Lexa and her mother had been so close to each other, each trapped under a different curse, unable to make contact. Was that why she'd risked her master's wrath to save Clarke?

She doesn't have time to wonder as Sydney's voice is drowned out by the thunder of hooves and the arrival of a second carriage. Four black stallions skid to a halt along the road and everybody stares at the extravagant black carriage behind, struck silent. For a moment nothing happens, but then the door slowly creaks open and a voice spills out—a voice that sends icy tendrils of horror crawling down Clarke's spine.

"Planning to cross the Wall, were you?" Cage Wallace steps out of the carriage, smoothing down his gray jacket. He looks the same as he did that terrifying night at the inn, except for his face. There's wrinkles and grey hair where previously there was youth, and a deep scar cuts through his upper lip, like he's caught between his normal self and the mask of his old father. "If death is what you wish, dear, I'd be more than happy to oblige you."

Clarke jerks back and finds herself against the Wall, a cold terror seizing her body and refusing to let her run. She thought she'd left him behind for good in that rain soaked inn.

"Are you talking to me?" Sydney growls, keeping a tight grip on the arm of her slave.

Cage turns, all mock surprise. "Oh, it's you! What a small world. Anyway, no, I wasn't. I was talking to the star." He lifts a hand as if to stroke Clarke's cheek, but she shrinks from his touch.

"Star? What star?" Sydney looks around suspiciously, still unable to see Clarke at all, and her eye lands on the woman in her grip. "My slave girl's no star. If she was, I'd of had the heart out her chest a long time ago, trust me."

Cage laughs harshly. "Trust _you?_ Like I would make that mistake again, witch." He turns to her, a smirk curling across his lips. "You know when I cast that little curse on you the last time we met, it was mostly out of spite, but now it's just hilarious to me that you can't see the star right under your crooked little nose." Cage points at Luna. "Right? You were there! The pretty little pet meadowlark. Maybe I'll take you home with me and keep you in a cage and you can sing for me while I drain this lovely star of all her lovely blood."

Sydney is shaking, her eyes incredulous. "You're crazy. You're not taking my slave girl. You'd have to kill me first."

It's the magic words for Cage. He paces closer, the sky inexplicably darkening overhead. "That can be arranged. What's it to be, Syd?" Cage whispers, raising a hand, the familiar yellow acid fog creeping around his shoulders. "Heads or tails?"

Sydney barely has time to raise a shield of her own red smoke before Cage hits her with his acid. Luna jumps out of the way, stumbling to Clarke's side. It's quickly obvious that Cage is far stronger, with Sydney struggling just to maintain her defense. Clarke knows this won't last long.

The witch's shield shrinks, wavers, and then—with a cracking noise—fails altogether and the acid consumes her body. Clarke gasps, horrified at the sight of Sydney dissolving into nothing but a burnt scar in the grass.

 _This would've been Lexa_ , Clarke thinks. That night at the inn, Cage had almost dragged her into the acid fog.

Cage laughs, a chilling sound like bones being drilled. "Now that the trash has been taken care of, it's time to go."

Luna shields Clarke protectively in her arms. "She's not going anywhere."

Cage sighs. "Let's not do this." He flicks his hand and a silver chain, newly freed from Luna's ankle, rematerializes around her wrist, binding her to Clarke.

Clarke takes one look back at the gap in the Wall, half expecting Lexa to appear, careening around the corner to rescue her like last time.

But nobody comes and she's forced to climb into the carriage behind Luna.

*

By the time Lexa reaches the Wall, she’s breathless and her heart feels ready to burst. She skids to a halt just before the gap and doubles over to catch her breath.

There's no sign of Clarke on either side and that's some measure of relief, though she's not sure what she expected to find. A pile of silvery stardust atop a soft blue dress? Lexa shudders at the thought.

She tries to calm her racing heart. Maybe Clarke hadn't even come to the Wall, and she worried for nothing? The relief is short lived though as she looks further beyond the gap and sees the destroyed remains of the old witch Sydney’s caravan, wheels snapped in half and the roof caved in.

Something _did_ happen.

Her worry redoubles.

She's about to pick her away across the stones when a noise startles her. Her hand flies to her sword hilt, but it's just Monty and Jasper hiding in the tall grass. They're huddled together in a little ball, making themselves as inconspicuous as possible.

Lexa drops to one knee before them. “What happened?”

“What happened?” Monty repeats in a shaky voice.

“Where to start?” Jasper adds. He has goggles over his face that make his eyes seem comically large.

Lexa doesn't have time for this. She grabs them both by their collars and hauls them to their feet. “Tell me what happened!”

In stuttering words the boys explain what they saw. Lexa has to put a few pieces together for herself since Monty and Jasper have no idea who any of these strangers are, but Lexa knows all too well.

Her stomach drops.

 _Cage_.

She hadn't given Cage a passing thought since that night at the inn, but of course he would still be out there looking for the star. She should never have left Clarke alone, even for a minute.

Lexa shoves past the boys and hops the gap. She’s not that far behind, if she hurries she can catch up. The witch's horse still hitched to the ruined caravan is not one bred for swift chases, but right now it's her only option.

*

Luna has a warm nurturing presence and Clarke immediately falls into her arms. The woman murmurs soft assurances into Clarke's hair and strokes her back.

Clarke finds it poetic that Lexa’s mother is named after the moon. As a star, she didn’t have parents in the traditional human sense, but she and her sister stars oft referred to the great full moon as their mother.

One might even call this _fate_.

She wonders if _fate_ brought her here: trapped in a carriage headed for certain doom with a woman who reminds her so much of Lexa but _isn't_. And _Lexa_ —did fate mean for her to fall in love just so Lexa could break her heart?

Well, if _fate_ will let her see Lexa again, maybe she will break something of Lexa's in return. Heading further from the wall though, the chances are getting slimmer. Even if she were to free herself, she doesn't know if she would even be able to find her way back. And she couldn't leave Luna behind now, not after she risked her life to save Clarke.

She smiles, despite the wretched feelings swirling around her heart. It seems stupidly reckless heroics run in the family.

Outside the carriage, a mountain looms up out of the forest, dark and imposing. The treeline breaks into a wide open clearing leading up to the base of the mountain. The carriage jostles as Cage climbs down and moves to open the door.

All the anger boiling inside Clarke narrows on Cage. She can't do anything while the silver chain keeps her captive, but she managed to escape it once before. Cage tugs sharply and she struggles to resist him, but the chain compels her to follow. With Lexa she had been able to impede their journey, but Cage’s power is overwhelming.

At the foot of the mountain is a stone arch with an enormous round door fitted inside. Cage waves his hand and the metal wheel set in the center creaks and groans as it turns, the entire door inching open. Inside, the mountain is dark and foreboding and Cage pulls Luna and Clarke into it's depths.

The winding corridors all look the same. Clarke quickly loses all sense of direction, blindly stumbling next to Luna. Candles high up on the walls flicker to life only as they pass, offering no hint as to what lies ahead. At last they turn into a wide corridor that ends in a large set of double doors. They creak open with a wave of Cage’s hand.

The room inside is massive. They must be at the very heart of the mountain now. The floors and walls are a dull gunmetal gray, grimy with black rust and soot from the innumerable candles around the room in wall sconces, hanging in chandeliers, and grouped together on any available surface. Crates, random pieces of furniture, and tables holding strange experiments litter the main floor haphazardly. Glass cases line the walls in rows, some large enough to hold a man or a beast of substantial size. Some are empty, some nearly black with bloody stains and others holding dark creatures writhing against the glass.

The room smells of death and blood.

Clarke’s body goes cold. Cage has to physically drag her into the room. Just inside are two more men, one younger with a cruel face and an older man Clarke recognizes with a jolt as the kind old innkeeper. Only this man is the real Dante Wallace, not Cage in a disguise. His eyes are grayer than she remembers and much colder.

“The star,” Dante crows, rubbing his hands together.

“And who else?” The younger man says, casually cleaning a large glass knife with a dirty rag.

“Nobody. A slave girl. I thought this place could use some cleaning up. And who knows, after we drain the star, we might be in the mood for a snack.” Cage manipulates the silver chain so that it slips off Luna’s wrist. “Here, Emerson, take her, give her something to do while we prep the star.”

Emerson takes Luna by the wrist, his grip tight enough to leave bruises and leads her away. Clarke wants to run after her, but she’s still hopelessly chained to Cage.

“The poor thing is so dim, I can barely see her heart,” Dante tuts, stepping closer so he can reach a hand out to touch her face. Clarke jerks away, unnerved by the sight of the old man who had once been so kind. His icy words also remind her of what she has lost, of _Lexa_ now disappeared on the wrong side of the Wall.

“She’s still got some light in her,” Cage says. He takes Clarke’s upper arm in a vice grip and gestures for his father to take the other. Past the main floor, twin staircases curve up on either side to small platform, edged by a low wooden railing.

The space is a shrine specially dedicated to draining their victim’s blood There’s a long ornate table against the back wall like an altar, covered with a multitude of candles and glass jars filled with black blood that gurgles and boils as if alive. The air is stifling up here, thick with the smell of ash.

Clarke is shaking. She doesn’t know how she’s going to escape this on her own. Cage pulls a narrow bed over to the center of the space and Dante forces her onto it. Leather straps are fixed, two at each end, and one at the middle.

They only manage to strap her wrists, before all hell breaks loose.

*

Lexa approaches the mountain slowly, keeping an eye out for traps. She leaves the horse at the edge of the treeline and hurries forward on foot. Either the occupants are extremely negligent or are so arrogant that they see no need for outer defenses, because Lexa reaches the door without a fight.

Near the entrance is an abandoned carriage with four black stallions still hitched and Lexa recognizes it as the late Prince Wells’. She hadn't known him long, but he was kind. He hadn't deserved to die that way. She thinks if they make it through this, she will erect some kind of memorial for him.

She doesn't have time to mourn though. The horses are still sweat slicked and breathing hard, which gives her hope that she's not far behind. Clarke is somewhere in this mountain and Lexa must find her.

The entrance to the stronghold sits wide open, inviting her into its depths. Lexa doesn’t waste time worrying about traps. Inside she finds a dark tunnel, with small almost inconsequential candles high up on the walls darkening the shadows between them. The stone floor is damp, and her boots make soft squelching noises as she walks.

Eventually, the tunnel forks and Lexa has to make a choice. Both sides look identical, so Lexa mentally flips a coin and takes the right one. She heads along this new tunnel for a while and hits another intersection with three paths. Flipping another mental coin, she takes the center path.

The tunnels are moving her steadily downhill, deeper into the mountain. At several points Lexa is sure she hears someone following, but when she stops, so does the sound. She ignores her anxiety about getting lost; she just thinks _Clarke Clarke Clarke_ and lets her heart guide her.

Finally the tunnel widens and she comes to a massive set of doors. They seem to be made of metal, not stone, with glass panels set into the frames. Lexa kneels down and peeks through. She can make out several people moving about, and she thinks she spots Cage and a flash of blonde hair but there’s too much in the way to see them properly.

Suddenly something cold and sharp touches her neck and a soft masculine voice whispers in her ear. “Tell me who you are and what you're doing here and I might not slit your throat.”

The stranger leans against her back, which is a mistake because it gives away their position enough for Lexa to drive her elbow back, right into their solar plexus. Lexa shoves the hand with the knife away, pulls her own dagger out and turns.

It’s a young man, maybe only a few years older than her, with short brown hair slicked back. His clothing reminds her of Prince Wells, elegant and needlessly extravagant.   

“Tell me who _you_ are,” Lexa hisses, holding her dagger up.

“You’re gonna regret that,” the young man says, rubbing his abdomen. “I’m Prince John of Stormhold.”

 _Prince_. That explained it. “I knew your brother, Wells.”

The prince curls his lip. “Expect that to impress me? Wells was a spineless coward. I’m glad he’s dead. One less competitor for the throne. Now tell me who you are.”

Lexa purses her lips. “It doesn’t matter. I just need to get in this room and rescue my friend.”

John shrugs his shoulders. “Whatever. I need to get in there too; I’ve been following you through the tunnels. So I guess we can work together.”

He joins Lexa at the window and they peer into the room.

“I count four of them,” he says.

“One of them might be my friend. She’s the blonde.” John doesn't say anything so Lexa grabs his shirt collar, pointing her dagger at him again. "Listen, you attack _her_ and you attack _me_ , do you understand?"

The hard glint in her eyes must be enough to convince him, because he nods rapidly. "Yeah, got it, yeah."

Lexa releases him and turns back to the door.

John sighs and nods toward the door. "Alright, on three then?”

They try the door and find it unlocked, so they slip in behind some crates piled just inside the room. Lexa peeks around it and finally spots Clarke being led up one of the staircases on the far side. The platform at the top reminds Lexa of the wheel deck of the Ark, except instead of the ship’s helm, there’s a sacrificial altar glowing with candlelight.

“ _Clarke_ ,” Lexa whispers. She feels her anger build as Clarke is forced down and restrained. There are still two more people down on the main floor to get through though, in addition to the two men upstairs, before she can reach her.

The prince draws his sword. “Time’s wasting,” he says. “Best to charge them. Take them by surprise.”

“What?” Lexa whirls around. That sounds like a terrible plan actually, but John is already storming forward. Lexa quickly draws her own sword and creeps around the other way, trying to remain hidden.

Someone shouts and trips an alarm, a sharp klaxon echoing through the high ceilinged room. John rushes him, swinging his sword around wildly. It’s obvious he’s not especially skilled with the weapon, and the man he’s up against isn’t playing fair. Yellow smoke appears out of nowhere, enveloping John and he stumbles back, screaming.

Lexa hurries out of her hiding place moments before the acid smoke reaches it. She runs right into another woman and whips her sword up, ready to defend herself.

“Lexa, wait!” The woman cries over the clanging alarm. “I’m your mother!”

Lexa falters, her mouth dropping open.

The woman tugs her behind a row of stacked, dusty trunks so they’re out of sight. “My name is Luna. I’m your mother, Lexa, sweetheart, it’s _me_ ,” she repeats, gazing earnestly at her.

Lexa’s first instinct is think it's a trick, but as she stares into the woman’s eyes—so much like her own—some spark ignites deep inside. This _is_ her mother. “But… how?”

“There’ll be time for that later,” Luna insists. “Now we need to rescue Clarke. Those men want to cut her heart out—”

“And drink her blood, I know,” Lexa interrupts, nodding. They look up where Clarke is being held. Even from here, Lexa can see that Cage is standing beside her still. But where is the other man?

The klaxon cuts off, and in the sudden quiet, they hear two sets of groans coming from the far side of the room.

Emerson is impaled against the wall, sword buried in his chest nearly to the hilt. He tugs uselessly at it, but it doesn’t budge. Meanwhile, John slumps against a table, holding his neck. He pulls his hand back, drops something on the table and falls to the floor.

“What’s this, more trespassers?” A wizened voice says, alarmingly close.

Lexa and her mother whirl around just as a flash of steel catches the light. On instinct, Lexa brings her sword up and catches the man’s weapon with a loud _CLANG_ , inches from her face. The old man wheezes as he struggles to keep pressure on his blade.

“Quick little thing, aren’t you?”

Lexa recognizes him as the man Cage had been impersonating back at the inn. Dante is tall and lean, his hair a pure white and cut short to his scalp. Despite his appearance, he has a surprising amount of strength.

She doesn’t want to wait around to find out what else he has. Quickly and in one fluid motion, she tips her sword allowing the old man’s blade to glance off and overbalance him, while bringing her leg up and snapping a kick at his knee. He goes down with shout.

Lexa pulls her mother to her feet. “Hurry, get out of here, I’ll get Clarke.” This fight could get ugly and she wants her mother safe and out of danger. The woman thankfully doesn’t argue and hurries for the door.

Dante clambers back to his feet, slashing his sword. Lexa matches the strike with a parry. The old man’s style is more akin to the classical fencing Lexa was taught in school, and she is thankful for Octavia’s lessons aboard the Ark.

Lexa dodges around the crates and runs, but Dante is quick to follow. They’re near the bottom of one of the staircases now. In between the echoing clangs of their swords, Lexa can hear Cage moving around and Clarke struggling against her restraints. Then Clarke yelps and her struggling stops. The sound is just enough to distract Lexa that she almost doesn’t see Dante’s next strike in time.

She catches it awkwardly, her wrist at a weak angle. Dante pounces on her mistake, twisting his sword around in an arc and spinning Lexa’s right out of her hand. He slashes again and Lexa throws herself backward to avoid it, but the tip of his sword slices through the leather strap of the lightning case. Lexa narrowly avoids slipping on it and falls against a crate.

Dante approaches slowly, kicking the case of lightning away. He picks up Lexa’s sword and compares it to his own, clearly savoring his victory. The edge of the crate is pressing into the backs of her thighs where her daggers are strapped. Lexa rolls off quickly, pulling out the throwing daggers.

The first flies a little wide, but it startles Dante into dropping his guard. She throws the second and it catches his arm, just below the wrist. Dante shouts and drops his sword. He rips the dagger out and cradles the arm to his chest, but he still has Lexa’s sword in his other hand.

He doesn’t gloat this time; he strides forward, raising the blade, a snarl twisting his face. Lexa pulls a third knife from her boot but Dante kicks it away. Lexa tries to scramble back but she’s up against the heavy crate again, she has nowhere to go. There’s no time, she has no sword, the throwing daggers gone, there's nothing, she has _nothing_ , she—

_She has one more dagger._

Lexa rips at her blouse, scattering buttons in her haste, and plunges her hand in to find the small hidden knife. Her fingers close around the handle just as Dante bears down, and she surges up to drive the knife into his neck as hard as she can.

He chokes, blood spilling from his mouth. The sword slips from his hand, the clattering harsh and echoing in the cavernous room. He claws at the handle, but it's already too late. Letting out a final bloody gasp, he slumps to the ground, dead.

She stares at the small knife in disbelief. That ridiculous dagger Octavia forced her to accept just saved her goddamn life. If she ever sees Octavia again, she’s gonna—

“No! What have you done!” Cage roars. Lexa jerks her head up to find him standing at the railing above her, rage clear on his face.

“Release Clarke!” Lexa yells back.

Up on the second floor, Clarke’s head shoots up. “Lexa?” She pulls at the restraints keeping her wrists bound and tries to sit up higher. “ _Lexa!_ ”

“ _Clarke!_ ”

Cage scoffs. “Oh, spare me the love-sick cries you two. Neither of you are leaving the Mountain alive!”

He storms over to the stairs. As he descends, he waves his arm across his body, and Lexa barely has time to dive out of the way before a steel box comes flying across the room. Cage repeats the motion again and again and more things fly at her. She ducks below a heavy candelabra and sidesteps a chair, but doesn’t see the wooden crate until it smashes into her back, knocking her to the ground.

There’s barely time to shake off the splinters, before she has to scramble out of the way of a large wooden dresser scraping along at an alarming speed. It smashes into the wall and then chunks of it are flying back, angling into terrifying wooden knives. Lexa dives behind a table, shouldering it over so the face of it catches the projectiles.

Lexa tries desperately to catch her breath. She has to incapacitate Cage fast; she doesn’t know how long she can keep this up. Then her fingers touch leather and she finds the case Dante kicked away miraculously in reach.

The _lightning_. Her best weapon for her worst opponent.

The table starts to move, shifting away and lifting into the air. Cage tosses it aside with a flick of his wrist. He’s close, only a few paces away, a cruel smirk on his face and yellow acid smoke curling around his legs.

Lexa jumps to her feet, cradling the case in her arms. She braces herself the way Raven taught her and unleashes the lightning. It cracks like a cannon shot, jumping directly to Cage’s outstretched hand. Electricity explodes across his body, sending him careening back through the air, end over end until he strikes the wall and slumps to the ground.

Clarke squeezes her eyes shut as the lightning ricochets across the ceiling, blindingly white. Blinking spots from her vision, she renews her struggle against the restraints. Her skin is nearly rubbed raw but she’s almost managed to get one of the leather straps loose. She can hear Cage groaning down below and Lexa’s harsh panting, but she has no idea what’s going on and she needs to _see._ Needs to see _Lexa_ again, make sure she’s alright.

Finally her hand slips free. She sits up to undo the other, but she’s distracted by the sound of Cage’s laughter. She abandons the strap for the moment, opting instead to just drag the whole bed with her to the railing so she can see.

Her eyes immediately seek out Lexa. The girl’s clothes are dirty and rumpled, her hair a mess and there’s blood splattered across her sweaty face, but otherwise she looks whole and well. She’s got her sword in her hand again, the spent lightning case abandoned on the ground.

 _Lexa_.

Clarke’s heart clenches and any anger she felt towards her falls away to be replaced by warm glowing starlight.

Cage is still laughing, the horrible sound loud and echoing now. He’s hunched and trembling, looking noticeably paler with blood running down his face, but his grin is wide and gleeful. “You stupid girl, you’ve forgotten all about the prince, and now the reaper’s got him!”

 _The prince?_ Clarke follows his eye-line to the figure rising to his feet behind Lexa, a sword clutched in his hand. She doesn’t recognize him, but she can see his eyes are red with barely contained fury. “Lexa, behind you!”

Lexa meets Clarke’s eyes briefly before spinning to this new threat.

The prince bares his teeth, growling something unintelligibly before charging. Lexa deflects as best she can, but Clarke can see the way she flinches at the force behind each strike. Clarke needs to help, create a distraction, anything. She hurries to unbuckle the leather strap keeping her bound to the bed.

“ _You_ are supposed to be tied up!” Cage growls, stalking up the stairs towards her.

Clarke moves to the head of the bed, angling it so it blocks him from reaching her. Cage flicks his hand and the silver chain snaps Clarke’s wrist up, but her rejuvenated starlight gives her the strength to resist Cage now. She smirks, curling her hand into a fist, enjoying Cage’s bewildered rage as she fights the invisible pull. With her other hand, she shoves the bed with all her might into Cage, knocking him back until he stumbles and trips backwards down the stairs.

Lexa shouts and Clarke turns back just as Lexa’s sword shatters. The prince, red eyed and dripping blue blood from a wide gash on his chest, lurches forward to finish the job. Lexa stumbles back, tripping and nearly impaling herself on her broken sword before she can throw it out of the way. She falls against the wall just below Clarke, pinned by the rapidly advancing prince.

Clarke looks around quickly, her eyes falling on the bed again and quickly drags it back over. The floor is smooth enough that she's able to give it enough momentum to ram straight through the wooden railing.  

Lexa spins away as the bed hits just feet away from her. When the dust settles, Lexa turns to find the poor prince unmoving beneath a tangled wreck of metal.  She glances up and there's Clarke, leaning over the broken railing looking utterly relieved. Radiant silver starlight shines around her like a halo and Lexa actually thinks she might cry at the sight.

Then Clarke is yanked back out of sight with a yelp.

"Clarke!" Lexa shoves away from the wall and runs up the stairs. Cage has a bruising hold on Clarke’s wrists as a magically writhing silver chain binds them together. Lexa doesn’t think. She charges Cage and tackles him to the ground.

The impact seems to knock the wind out of Cage. Lexa scrambles away to where Clarke is fighting against the chain that continues to wind around her arms. She finds the glass knife abandoned on the floor and cuts through the chain, killing its magic.

Just as the silver chain dissolves completely, the knife is ripped out of Lexa’s hand by an invisible force, slicing Lexa’s palm. Dark blue blood spills out of the cut, but she doesn’t have time to worry about it as Cage looms close, glass knife in hand.

" _You_ ," Cage spits. There's a crazed, erratic look in his eye, as he waves his knife around. "I should have killed you back at the inn! Now you have _ruined_ everything. Emerson and my father are dead, the only two people I ever cared about. What use is youth and immortality to me now?"

Cage throws the knife to the ground, breathing heavily. He runs a hand through his gray, thinning hair. His once immaculate suit is filthy with dirt and blood. The wrinkles on his face are deeper, his skin pale. He looks closer to the disguise of his father’s face than ever.

“Get out,” he hisses.

Clarke and Lexa glance at each other, unsure of his intentions.

“Go!”

They don’t need to be told again. Lexa pushes Clarke ahead of her and together they descend the stairs quickly. They pass Prince John’s body and Dante’s, Emerson’s body impaled against the wall. Somehow they can’t quite believe this is over. Through the glass panels on the door they can see Luna grinning with relief, waiting for them.

They make it halfway to the door before the glass cages shatter.

The glass doesn’t blow all at once. First there’s an earsplitting screech that echoes through the room and the glass starts to vibrate violently, flexing in and out. Then like a tidal wave, the cages explode in a line around the room.

Lexa shoves Clarke to the ground and throws her body over her, trying to shield her from the brunt. Glass rains down in sheets, pieces as large as their heads smashing around them. The creatures within the cages crash to the ground.

Lexa doesn’t move until she’s sure the glass has stopped falling. She can feel numerous cuts on her back where glass has torn through her clothes. Slowly, she shifts off of Clarke to get to her feet, glass crunching under her boots. She’s thankful for the thick soles.

Clarke staggers to her feet after her, looking somewhat shell shocked.

“Are you ok?” Lexa asks, eyes sweeping Clarke for any wounds.

“Yes, are you?” Clarke’s hands flutter at Lexa’s arms, brushing bits of glass away.

Before Lexa can respond, a low chuckle interrupts her.

“How touching it is, watching the two of you. Seriously, it warms the heart.” Cage steps off the  staircase, twirling his glass knife in his hand. His shoes crunch on broken glass as he strolls out onto the main floor. He looks almost unconcerned now, a sharp contrast to his earlier rage. “You know I really ought to thank you, girl. You managed to bring a bit of light back into my star. Shame I’ll be snuffing it out soon.”

Lexa doesn’t hesitate to push herself in front of Clarke, lifting her chin defiantly. “I won’t let you touch her again.”

Clarke’s heart flips in her chest as Lexa blocks her from Cage. There are pieces of glass caught in Lexa’s hair and clinging to her jacket. She can see Lexa is exhausted by the way her shoulders tremble as she fights to keep them steady. Still, she stands defiant.

This silly brave girl ready to defend Clarke with her life, _again_.  All the moments that passed between them rush through her mind, a silver chain connecting them. The memories swirls and coalesce into a beautiful youthful face, high cheekbones and pale green eyes softening in candlelight, lips lifting into a smile, whispering _my love_ against her own.

Her heart swells with light and she knows what to do. She pulls at Lexa’s arm, turning her around.

“Quick, hold me close and close your eyes.”

“What?” Lexa stares at her with wide, startled eyes.

Clarke smiles softly. “What do stars do?”

She wraps her arms around Lexa’s neck, and presses as close as she can, feeling Lexa’s arms tighten around her back. Clarke looks briefly at Cage, before burying her face in Lexa’s chestnut curls. She thinks of dancing together with Lexa in the sky on a pirate’s ship deck. Of Lexa’s palm hot against the back of her hand as they fight against wind and rain to harness lightning. She thinks of Lexa’s lips, warm and soft against her own.

She holds Lexa close, and in the perfection of Lexa’s arms curled protectively around her, she whispers the answer: “Shine.”

And—

She _shines_.

Her starlight builds from within her, stemming from her beating heart and extending through her being _out, out, out_. It surrounds them and expands, growing in intensity. Faintly, Cage is yelling something that might be _“No!”_ or _“Stop!”_ but Clarke ignores everything except the girl in her arms.

Clarke focuses only on Lexa and the love coursing through her body and her starlight responds with an explosion of force, shattering and refracting against the exploded glass surrounding them. She thinks in this moment, she could light up the entire Earth and all the stars in the heavens would dull in comparison.

Eventually the light crests and recedes, collapsing back in on itself. With a gentle exhale, Clarke lets it return into her body, light fading around them from a blinding white into nothing. Lexa is trembling in her arms, her stuttering breath falling down the back of Clarke’s neck.

She pulls back a little, whispering assurances to Lexa that it’s okay to open her eyes. Slowly, Lexa does, blinking as if she is seeing Clarke for the first time, with a bit of fear, a bit of confusion, but mostly with unrestrained awe. Clarke swipes her thumbs along Lexa’s cheeks tenderly, wiping some of the blood and grime away. Lexa sighs and leans against the touch, bringing her hands up to hold Clarke’s wrists loosely.

After a moment of silence they remember Cage, but when they turn there’s only the charred remains at the bottom of the stairs.

“Wow,” Lexa murmurs, stunned. She looks back at Clarke. “Why didn’t you do that earlier?”

The smile on Clarke’s face falters just a bit as she bites her lip. “I—I couldn’t haven’t done that without you.”

Lexa gets an expression that says _what did I do?_

Clarke shakes her head, sadly. “No star can shine with a broken heart. I thought you’d left me….”

She sees the moment Lexa understands; how her message was misinterpreted into the worst possible scenario (and later they would really have to talk about _what_ exactly Lexa had been thinking).

But Clarke doesn’t want to think about that, because she already feels tears in her eyes. She shakes her head again and can’t help the smile that returns. “But you came back.”

Lexa leans forward, looking adorably earnest. “Of course I did, Clarke. I love you!”

Clarke surges forward to kiss Lexa. The words fall so simply, but she feels them so much stronger now, as though every other emotion she has ever felt was just a precursor to this. This moment of perfect happiness holding the woman she loves feels like a new beginning. The cycle she always saw as constant but never truly including her, now circles and intertwines her with Lexa.

With the excitement over and the adrenaline worn off, Lexa’s exhaustion catches up and she leans more heavily on Clarke. The room still reeks of death, but they’re content to rest a bit longer, holding each other again like this whole wretched day never happened.

The sound of glass crunching underfoot startles them for a moment, but it's just Lexa’s mother making her way slowly across the devastated room towards them.

“Luna,” Clarke sighs, happily.

Lexa glances at her. “She says she’s my mother.”

Clarke nods like she already knew that. “She was with us in the caravan you know. The blue meadowlark? Sydney was holding her captive.”

“She was so close and I didn’t even know,” Lexa murmurs.

“But _she_ knew. Luna was the one who stopped me from crossing the wall.” She says, explaining how much Luna risked to save her life. “But then Cage showed up and took us both captive.”

Lexa’s grip tightens. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve been there.”

Clarke looks at her. “Yes, you should have.”

Lexa’s eyes drop and she nods weakly. Clarke lifts her hand to rub her thumb across Lexa’s brow, bringing tired green eyes back up to meet hers.

“But you’re here now. And I’m not letting you out of my sight again.”

Luna reaches them and suddenly Lexa feels a bit nervous. Finding her mother had become sort of a hopeless dream after using up the rest of the Babylon candle, but now here she was. Real and tangible, no longer just an idea. Clarke seems to sense her hesitation and moves in to hug Luna first.

When they separate, Luna turns to Lexa with a warm smile. “I’ve been waiting a very long time to see you again, my darling.”

Lexa forgets her nerves and lets Luna’s arms envelope her.

 

Before they can leave, Lexa wants to collect her scattered weapons. With Luna and Clarke helping, they find the daggers and her broken sword. The small knife still embedded in Dante's neck Clarke removes with little love lost for the cruel old man.

Lexa picks up the spent lightning case lying near the crushed body of Prince John. “Should we… do something about the Prince?” Lexa says, looking pityingly at the heap of tangled metal lying atop his body.

Clarke frowns. “Well he did try and kill you, Lexa. Why was he even here in the first place?”

“He said he was looking for something in here. Probably the same thing Prince Wells was after,” Lexa realizes, furrowing her brows. “He never told me what it was though.”

Luna straightens up from examining the Prince’s body, shaking her head. “Poor boy. Likely it was that peculiar stone necklace Clarke was wearing. I believe I’ve seen it before.”

Clarke’s hands fly to her bare neck. Somehow in all the confusion the chain must have broken, and the very thing that knocked her to Earth was lost. Lexa looks around intently, scanning the cluttered floor. She doesn’t expect to find a clear stone hidden among all the shattered glass, but something tugs at her awareness, drawing her eye.

Lexa steps away from Clarke a few feet and bends down, carefully shifting bits of glass out of the way to find the now loose stone, free of its metal casing. She grins and picks it up, hurrying back to show Clarke, but her smile fades as the stone begins to change. Deep scarlet seeps into the stone like blood, staining the translucent surface until it's solid. She looks up from her open palm at Clarke, who’s staring back at her just as baffled.

Luna, however, does not look surprised at all. In fact she looks positively delighted. She steps forward and gently cradles Lexa’s hand in hers. “The Ruby is a Stormhold tradition, it chooses the most worthy heir to the throne.” She takes Lexa’s other hand and turns it palm side up, holding it open beside the Ruby. The one the glass knife had sliced open earlier. Now they can all see the dark blue blood seeping sluggishly from the wound, stark against her skin. “The blue blood of the Royal Spirit. It's you, Lexa. You’ve been called to lead our people.”

Lexa stares at her.

Clarke looks between them for a moment before slinging an arm around Lexa’s waist. “Cool!” Lexa turns to her, still in shock and Clarke grins cheekily. “I told you, you were more than just a shop girl, Commander.”

*

The night sky is vast and open above her, brilliant with shining stars and a large crescent moon. It is blessedly quiet out here on the balcony, a nice relief from the party. Lexa can almost imagine she is back on the deck of the Ark. Back before she found herself burdened with so much responsibility.

The past few months had been a blur. Shockingly, showing up out of obscurity with a long lost Princess, claiming to be the next ruler didn't garner immediate trust. She's been subjected to numerous tests and trials, attended endless council meetings to determine she is who she says she is and that she is indeed worthy of leadership.

Of course she’s not bearing the weight of rule alone. She has her mother plus a whole new extended family to get to know. She has advisors to guide her. Plenty of support. She is just not used to this kind of pressure.

Anya had warned her early on. “Being King is a drag, you’ll soon find out.” She’s nearly a head taller than Lexa and seems to enjoy taking advantage, tucking Lexa under her arm regularly. “But we’ll be here to help you. Think of us as your mentors, Little Lex. We can guide you through court life.”

Princess Anya and Prince Lincoln have been gracious in welcoming Lexa, thrilled even, to learn she had restored the Ruby. Lexa needn't have worried about any jealousy over the throne, as they assured her the very last thing they want is to rule.

Clarke insists that she knew Lexa was destined for great things all along. The star was even more excited for her than Lexa was at the change. Through all the shifting chaos, Clarke has been a shining golden presence for which Lexa will always be grateful.

The sound of her name is Lexa’s only warning before Clarke appears, crossing the wide balcony to join her.  "I thought I might find you out here." She touches Lexa's elbow and Lexa automatically lifts her arm so Clarke can in slip closer. "Are you alright?"

Lexa smiles, tightening her arm. "Yes, I just needed a moment." The coronation party has been more than she was prepared to handle.

Clarke, shining beautifully in the moonlight, is still dressed in the ornate silver gown from the ceremony, though she's lost the heavy crown and much of the jewelry the attendants had held was proper. Part of the coronation had been to introduce Clarke as Lexa's wife to the people of Stormhold and she had to look the part.

Lexa too has abandoned her new crown on the seat of her throne, appalled by its impractical size and weight. She thinks maybe just a simple sash she could wear over her clothing would be better. She'd have to ask her mother about it later.

Clarke rests her head on Lexa's shoulder. "It's all a bit overwhelming, isn't it?"

"Yes," Lexa sighs, taking solace in Clarke's familiar warmth. She doesn't know if anything in her life will ever be simple again. She's responsible for an entire kingdom now, thousands upon thousands of people.

Lexa is quiet for a moment, listening to the muffled sounds of the party still going on in the main hall. What seems like all of Stormhold has been invited to witness and celebrate her coronation. She's been introduced to more people in a single night than she’s met in her entire life.

Inside, her father is dancing, reunited with Luna at long last. All of her hometown has been invited and most of them have braved crossing the Wall to support her. They wouldn’t miss the chance to witness to a poor shop girl gaining a kingdom. The Quint brothers, her old nemeses, are there, looking small and intimidated (which truthfully might have more to do with the way Anya is cracking her knuckles and glaring at them). Costia sat beside Elliot and sulked for the entire ceremony.

The crew of the Ark are there as well, and at Lexa's express order, had been seated near the front in a place of honor. Lightning pirates are not a typical sight at royal events, but there are perks to being the highest authority. Theirs were among the loudest and most raucous cheers of the night and Lexa loved them for it.

Clarke stares wistfully at the stars above, letting her own light shine a little. She still misses her home, will _always_ miss it, but she is content living the mortal way with her wife by her side. They’d eloped aboard the Ark a couple months earlier so they could avoid the trauma of a royal wedding. Octavia was thrilled at the chance to dress them up one more time, and Captain Blake was more than happy to preside.

“Clarke... how long do stars live?” Lexa asks, slowly. She has her face turned toward the night sky.

There's a hint of fear in Lexa's voice that makes Clarke frown. “Well not forever, but an awfully long time I suppose.”

“Much longer than a human, I imagine.”

Clarke looks up, observing her quiet melancholy, her tense shoulders and tight jaw. She reaches up and soothes a hand across her wife’s cheek, urging her to turn. “Lexa, it’s true that no human can live forever.” Lexa’s green eyes fall, but Clarke ducks her head to keep eye contact. “Except,” she continues, a shy smile tugging her lips, “One who possesses the heart of a star. And you’ve had mine for quite a while now.”

“I’m not going to eat your heart, Clarke,” Lexa says, mildly appalled.

Clarke rolls her eyes. “Silly human, always thinking so literal.” She presses a quick kiss to Lexa’s lips before drawing back to reach inside some pocket of her dress. What she pulls out is a long narrow box, black with delicate golden patterns.

"At the coronation, while you were busy being knighted or whatever," Clarke flips her hand dismissively making Lexa laugh, "Luna gave me a gift." She lifts the lid of the case back on its hinges, showing Lexa the contents. "Only I think it's more of a gift for us both."

A single Babylon candle, whole and unused, sits safely in cushioned satin.

Lexa’s eyes dart from the candle back up to Clarke. "So you can...go home?"

“Eventually,” Clarke agrees, reaching out to touch Lexa’s cheek. “With you by my side, I hope.”

“Me? Become a star?” Lexa’s eyes widen, as if she had never considered the possibility.

Clarke closes the case and puts it away so she can hold both of Lexa’s hands in hers. “You once told me you thought the idea of immortality to be lonely.”

“Unless you had someone to share it with,” Lexa whispers, leaning her forehead against Clarke’s.

“And I want to share forever with you, Lexa Woods.”

“Because you love me?”

Clarke tilts her head, smiling at Lexa’s dopey grin. “By some miracle, yes, I do. And I told you I was never going to let you leave my sight again."

"I would like that very much, my love," Lexa murmurs, happily. Her chest feels warm, as if filled with pure starlight.

*

Many, many years later, once their children and grandchildren are grown, they know it is time to light the Babylon candle at last. Lexa’s successor is kind and the kingdom prosperous. The dark case is dusty and cracked from the passage of time, but the candle inside is still pristine. With a mortal’s lifetime of joys between them, they hold each other close, light the flame and think of home.

High up in the sky Clarke and Lexa find a place to call their own, and Clarke shares all the wonders that life in the heavens can offer. Together they shine, and best of all, they _live_.

Happily, ever after.

 


End file.
